


The Hitman and The Dragon

by Zekerets



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - John Wick (Movies) Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassin Jon, Assassins & Hitmen, Attempted Seduction, Character Development, Daenerys Targaryen/Daario Naharis - Freeform, Daenerys Targaryen/Others (past), Dark Jon Snow, Eventual Smut, F/M, John Wick (Movies) References, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Jon Snow/Others (past), Medium Burn, Modern Royalty, N plus A equals J, Rickon needs appreciation, The Continental, unlikable to likable Dany
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 22:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekerets/pseuds/Zekerets
Summary: He was never meant to save lives. He was always meant to take them. But they took a little piece of the little joy he had in life. They took his brother and he would get him back. Even if it meant he had to protect Royalty to do it.Set in the world of John Wick.





	1. Prologue

****

**Daenerys**

She wasn’t thrilled. Not by any means.

She was raised to be free. She was raised to receive everything she ever wanted. She was spoiled, she wouldn’t deny it, and if she didn’t get what she wanted she would throw a fit until she did. It’s just how her brother raised her.

“Take what’s yours, dear sister, for a dragon has no use on waiting.”

That’s what her brother had constantly told her growing up. That’s what he had her and anyone that was a true Targaryen believe. So, it was no surprise that Daenerys Targaryen was absolutely shocked to hear that her brother, Rhaegar, had always ordered for her to have a bodyguard for God knows how long. Her brother had grown paranoid over recent developments out by a terrorist cell from the Middle East. Apparently, they had threatened the Royal Family and all its members. The terrorist cell must have had a considerable influence as Rhaegar was quick to order the security to be doubled around the palace. Suddenly every royal family member was followed by more guards. Elia, Rhaenys, Aegon, her mother Rhaella and even her brother Viserys as well. All of them. Except her.

Daenerys would not have herself be followed at all. She valued her privacy, her moments where she could walk alone and think to herself. Those moments would not be ruined just because some faraway savages a thousand miles away had sent empty threats! So, she argued. She spat words filled with venom at her brother. She ignored the orders of extra protection when he called upon it. While everyone else scrambled to find guards with haste, she turned away every willing guard that came her way. She ordered them to leave her presence and not set their eyes upon her for the rest of the week.

Rhaegar did not like that. He summoned her to the throne room and demanded a reason as to why she had disobeyed him. With suave coolness, she simply told him that she had no use for extra guards.

“What do you mean…you have no use for guards” Rhaegar asked. Each word was gritted out in its own singular sentence. His eyes narrowing with each syllable passed as he stood up from his throne and made his way slowly down towards her. She could see Elia sitting to his left, eyes filled with worry and disappointment. Daenerys didn’t know if those brown eyes were directed at her or Rhaegar. Frankly, she didn’t care.

Rhaegar finished stalking towards her from the top of the steps. It was a power move, one he had used so often and so successfully in the past. Anyone else would’ve cowered away from him, even his constant shadow, Ser Arthur.

Ser Arthur was the best guard out of the lot followed closely by Ser Barristan. Oh yeah, here’s a kicker. It was 2014 and people were still being dubbed as knights. It was completely stupid in Daenerys’ opinion seeing as the classical swords the original knights used, swords, were outdated a few centuries ago for guns. It was the 21st century yet the UK still felt medieval with its Kings and Lords. There was modernism for sure, secret service and all that. Much better, she assumed, than the law of the Victorian Ages. There were talks of incorporating a democratic government, Parliament or something like that, with the Royal family as just figure heads, but her Great Grandfather had put a stop to that nonsense. Or perhaps he should’ve let it pass, then it would’ve saved Daenerys her current headache.

“I said what I meant dear brother” Daenerys said, false sweetness entering her tone. “I will not be followed around constantly by some meek shadow.”

“There are plenty of capable guards among my ranks” he replied.

Daenerys rolled her lilac colored eyes as she met again with narrowed, but similar ones.

“Really Rhaegar? You know damn well that there are only three capable guards here, and all three are taken. Every other guard would just be there to take a bullet. And after they’re done falling to the ground, why I’d suspect I’d be next.”

She couldn’t see any of the attending guards react, but she knew she must have burned their pride. They knew what three guards she was talking about. Ser Arthur who was sworn to Rhaegar, Ser Barristan who was sworn to Rhaenys and Ser Jaime who was sworn to her mother. Now, it wasn’t entirely accurate that they were the only three capable guards. There were four others and four others max. Ser Lewyn, Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Darry. Ser Lewyn was sworn to Elia, Ser Gerold was sworn to the crown prince (he was also getting a bit too old in Daenerys’ opinion), while Ser Oswell was sworn to her brother. That left Ser Darry, who had offered his services to her a week prior, but she deftly turned him away.

Rhaegar continued to stare down at her, lilac eyes unyielding, pale face, silver hair with a beard to match. He expected her to back down. Only their mother had stood up to him face to face. It irked Daenerys that everyone else bowed so willingly to him, family especially. They acted as if he might strike them, but she had known long enough that he was mainly all talk when it came to family. He’d never lash out or inflict pain. Unfortunately for Rhaegar, Daenerys was just like their mother.

He eventually backed down, anger still burning in his eyes as he slowly walked up the steps and sat down. Daenerys felt herself smiling, believing she had won. Rhaegar must have seen it as he called to her before she left the room.

“Sister” she turned around “Do enjoy your week.”

She stared at him dumbly for a good while before nodding her head.

“I mean, you do enjoy your freedom and you’re right. There isn’t an available guard that is capable to protect you.”

That confused her. She was sure he would try to force Ser Darry to her. A smile graced her beautiful features, but it was quickly swept away when he matched it.

“That is why dear Sister” he said lowly “I want you to enjoy the week. Because it will be the last freedom you know for a while. I’ve tolerated your disrespect too much. You say there isn’t a qualified guard? Then I’ll find one! I’ll find one if I have to tear down all of London” he snarled.

Daenerys looked at her brother with wide eyes. He had never raised his voice against her. She was always his sweet little sister who he spoiled. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Rhaegar’s eyes turned into slits and she was sure she was gazing upon a Dragon.

“Get. Out” He hissed.

Daenerys composed herself and kept her head held high as she exited the room.

No. Daenerys Targaryen was not thrilled at all.

**Somewhere in London**

“Oh God” a weak whimper croaked out. “Please don’t man. Please don’t do this.”

Other than the man’s pleas, the only thing to be heard was a pistol being reloaded. The silent man aimed the barrel at the beggar’s forehead and stayed there.

“Listen man, whatever they’re paying you. I-I can double it. Just tell me the am-“

**_BANG_ **

The shot was loud but wouldn’t be heard. London was busy after all.

“Sorry” the man stepped forward, his features now being shone upon by a long, hanging light bulb. Cold and calculating grey eyes stared down upon his victim. His curly, black shoulder length hair slicked back behind his ears. “I don’t go back on a contract.”

**_DING_ **

The man reached into the inner pocked of his charcoal suit and pulled out his phone, reading the message he had just received.

_Meet me at the abandoned warehouse on Cheatham as soon as you can._

_**DING** _

_It’s important_

_**DING** _

_Don’t make me wait_

The man didn’t receive any more messages after that. All he knew was that he needed to make a quick call.

“Hello” the man said when he reached contact on the other line. “I need a cleaner service.” “Bixby lane. Building 14. Basement.” “Payment will be payed tomorrow by my account” “Yes” “Thank you.”

He ended the call. He stared at the man in front of him, blood flowing profusely from the singly forehead wound. He didn’t know what the victim’s crimes were. Perhaps he was corrupt, maybe he was good. Maybe it was just some petty reasoning. It didn’t matter to him. A contract was a contract.

He stood there for what seemed like hours, staring at the corpse before he turned around to face the stairs, and left.

**Rhaegar**

_4 Hours Before Mysterious Texts_

Rhaegar was desperate. Very desperate. He cursed himself for putting himself in this predicament. He cursed his sister for being a stubborn fool. He should’ve forced Ser Darry to be her shadow, but he just bloody had to take the prideful route. Now the week was almost over in 2 days and he still hadn’t found a suitable bodyguard for his sister.

He told himself he wouldn’t deal with these men ever again. Rhaegar knew about them. What they did. How much power they had. They were a disease. A disease that his father had let fester. May he burn forever in hell. They had sometimes done his father’s bidding, and when Rhaegar had stepped in to end all ties, it had been too late. Their power was secured in all Great Britain, but mainly England. He didn’t know if it was to mock him, but they had left their business card with him as if it were a simple invitation to the barber. It was the same business card he was staring at.

Rhaegar sighed and with a deep breath, picked up the phone and contacted his assistant, Jon Connington.

“Jon” Rhaegar said with a gruff voice. “Its urgent.” “No, no ones dying.” _Not yet at least_ “Jon, I need you to get me in contact with the continental.”

_1 Hour Before Mysterious Texts_

Rhaegar was sitting in his office when it suddenly opened, and a man walked in. He was younger than Rhaegar, but older than the young crowd. He had a parted comb over for his dirty blonde hair. His face was sharp with a clean shave. He wore a black pinstripe vest with a dress blue shirt. A royal blue tie tucked in with a golden pocket watch attached to one of the buttons. The tie complimented his eyes.

“Well, well” the man said with a smooth accent. His hazel eyes crinkling as a smile adorned his face. “King Rhaegar, calling me of all people.”

Rhaegar tensed internally, but his face stayed stone. He knew the game. You couldn’t give anyone the leverage when negotiating, especially not a syndicate of assassins.

The man was not deterred.

“Tell me, my King, what services do you require from me today? Is there a corrupt politician that needs to be dealt with?” Rhaegar internally flinched. “A woman that denied your advances.” His blood ran cold. “Maybe one of these worthless homeless urchins accidently touched your leg as they begged for money. It is no problem. We deal with them all.”

Rhaegar was horrified, these people had no morals. They had no principles. They murdered whoever they pleased so long as the price was right. He was reconsidering having one of these men look after his sister.

He cleared his throat before he began to speak. He wanted to get to the point, but recent revelations had hindered him.

“You kill people.”

“We do” the man said, smile still present.

“For money”

“Don’t we all?”

“No. No we don’t.”

“Oh, maybe not you. You have everything. But if you grew up poor, hungry and I offered you money. More money than you could imagine, to take a life. Wouldn’t you do it?”

Rhaegar wanted so badly to say no. But he knew he couldn’t answer that question definitely.

“I need a principled man.” Rhaegar said.

“King Rhaegar! Who do you take us for?” the man feigned a look to one of insulted.

“A gang of merciless mercenaries.” He bit out dryly.

The man chuckled as he pointed a finger at the King. “Tongue Twister.”

Rhaegar fought back the urge to strike the man in front of him.

“I need someone dependable. Loyal. Someone that can be trusted.”

“This must be quite the target. Any assassin can do this really.”

Rhaegar swallowed.

“Not a target” Rhaegar said.

“Pardon me?”

“I said, not a target. A client.”

The man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I thought you were the client.”

“I am.”

“This isn’t making any sense whatsoever.”

“I’m asking for help, but my sister is the client…” The man in front of him was still confused.

“I need a reliable bodyguard for her.” He breathed out.

The man looked displaced at that.

“A…bodyguard” he said. “You called me down here, not to order a hit, but for a body… guard.”

Rhaegar nodded. He thought right then and there that he would be denied and that the man would walk out without another word. Rhaegar dreaded the upcoming words, he put his pride aside and it was thrown back in his face. He would have to swallow his pride again and order Ser Darry to guard his sister after decreeing him incompetent. The shame he would feel. He felt his blood prickling already.

The king was ready to apologize for wasting the man’s time when he was cut off by laughter.

Rhaegar looked up from his lap and saw the man progressively struggle to contain his laughter.

“Oh” the man said, wiping a tear from his eye “you want a bodyguard. I’m sorry” he said, no regret in his tone whatsoever. “Do you realize how ridiculous this sounds? You came to a syndicate of assassins, hoping to find a body guard?”

Rhaegar looked up at the ceiling, sniffing before meeting the gaze of the man who was starting to really piss him off.

“Aye. But it seems I’ve wasted my time here. Your organization clearly has no sort of code.”

Finally, the smile was wiped from the man’s face.

“Code, my King” he said, his stare deadpan “is all we have.”

Rhaegar severely doubted that. He rose an eyebrow to show his disbelief. This only further seemed to anger the man in front of him. The man seemed ready to snarl at him before he composed himself and a small smirk rose upon his face.

“It seems I have a man for you.”

Rhaegar perked at his words. Intrigue and excitement. Though it was quickly diminished when he realized that the man was most likely an assassin.

“Really?” Rhaegar needed to find out as much information before he could come to a decision. All facts were valuable. “You have a man that is loyal, dependable, and competent?”

“I do indeed” the man replied. “The man I have in mind is a man of focus and determination. Not at all surprising considering his mentor.”

“Who is his mentor?”

“Oh, just some bloke from the states. A man of focus and determination. Not at all surprising considering _HIS_ mentor.” The man’s eyes had renewed their mirth. Rhaegar was not going to continue biting.

“Very well. I would like to employ the services of this man. I believe 2 million pounds should suffice for a contract year of protection. I will renegotiate terms if I should require his services longer.”

“Mmm, very agreeable terms. However,” Rhaegar scowled at that “oh, don’t give me that look. I think it’s just very important for you to know that the man you wish to employ is one of extreme temperament. True, he’s loyal. He shall never break a contract, no matter how much more is offered, but that’s just a perk. The true challenge is convincing him to take your contract my King. Now, usually he’d accept said contract if it was the usual. However, seeing as this contract is not usual and out of the ordinary, I do believe it will take a certain…persuasion.”

_Great. Just great._

“Worry not my King, as I believe I know a way to persuade him to say yes…”

_Then what’s the problem?_

“…for a price of course. Jon is a very stubborn man and I’m afraid he’s rather deadly with that pistol of his.”

_Of course. Money. Why wouldn’t it be about money?_

Rhaegar couldn’t stop the rolling of his eyes. All he could do was bite out

“How much?”

The man smiled and held Rhaegar’s gaze. It was only ten seconds, but it was the longest ten seconds to Rhaegar and it had made him, for the first time in his life since his father, visibly uncomfortable.

“7 million.”

Rhaegar had to double take. 7 million?! That was more than 3 times the amount he was paying this “temperamental” man to protect his sister. 7 million, was he taking the piss?

“I’m sorry, I mustn’t have heard you correctly. Did you say…7 million?”

That damned smile never fell.

“Oh no, my King. You heard perfectly well. 7. Million. That is my price to convince Jon to take the contract.”

_So, his name is Jon? Well, its nice to finally put a name to this mysterious man. Still, 7 million is a hefty sum to pay someone who’s only job is to convince a man to take the contract._ Rhaegar was seriously tempted to tell the man in front of him to go fuck himself for the exuberant price, but then again… If the man was requesting such a high figure, then surely the services would be worth it? His sister’s life (and his pride, but mainly his sister’s life) was on the line and if he had to pay a premium, then so be it. Buuuut. What if the man was trying to swindle him? No, that would not do. He decided to pay the man his fee but was against paying it in full. No, if this man wanted 7 million pounds from him, then this “Jon” had better earn it for him.

“Done” the man’s smile widened further, impossible as it seemed. _Oh_ , Rhaegar hoped it would be wiped with what he would say next “However,” it did the trick, his smile dampened. _Got you, you utter tosser_ “I shall only pay you 1 million as of right now. After all, this Jon will be doing all the work. If he does it properly after one year, then you will have the other 6. Those are my terms.”

The man pondered his words. He tapped his fingers on the wood of the table, shuffling the information in his mind. Rhaegar sat their anxious. It was true that he wanted the upper hand, but he also needed for this deal to go through. Daenerys needed someone to look after her. Damn her wishes, her safety came first. The man reached into his pocked and pulled out a coin. Rhaegar watched as the man fiddled with it, twirling and spinning it in his hand. Finally, the man enclosed the coin in his hand…and smiled. He looked up at Rhaegar, stood up and nodded his head.

“I accept”

**Jon**

When Jon had received the anonymous texts, he knew it could only be one person. He didn’t know why it was urgent, but Jon rarely asked questions. In his opinion, all that mattered was what the client wanted and if they were willing to pay. He was also loyal. He never broke from a contract. Ever. Earlier, it hadn’t been the first time one of his targets had tried to bargain with him.

_“Oh, please sir, don’t kill me. I have gold, money, and jewels.” “You can have my car.” “You can have my house.” “You can fuck me.”_

Yes. Jon had heard it all. Nothing swayed him. What good was a man to an employer if he only whored himself out to the next highest bidder? No, loyalty was important to Jon. Other than the two crucial rules of The Continental, loyalty was all they had. So, he would go without question.

The warehouse was 20 minutes away from his destination. He could’ve made it in half time if he was being honest. His Jaguar was very fast. But it was something about that message

_'Don’t make me wait’_

Yes, Jon obeyed and honored every contract. However, that didn’t mean he liked to be ordered around. It was hell during his trainee days. He had loathed when his mentor ordered him around. But he toughed it out and now here he was. A top hitman. A loyal hitman. But not a lap dog. He was feral and cold. Everything he did was with precision.

“Don’t make you wait? Fuck you.” So, he pressed the gas on his Jaguar XF…and took the longest route he could possibly find.

_30 Minutes Later_

Jon pulled into the warehouse on Cheatham. The first thing he noticed were the 5 black G-Wagons lined up in the middle of the warehouse. Then he noticed _him._ He, who thought that could control him. He who took what little happiness he had in his life. His little brother.

“Jon, Jon, Jon” the man said with a smile. He clucked his tongue as he shook his head. “You made me wait. I could’ve sworn you were only 20 minutes away. Yet here you are, 10 minutes late. An explanation? Please?” He gave a false smile, all his white teeth on display.

Oh, how Jon loathed him. He couldn’t remember what he had done, even though it had only been a few months, but he apparently had rubbed the man the wrong way. That particular day, the man decided to follow Jon personally. Perhaps he planned to get rid of him, oh he wished he had, but no, the man had decided to be cruel, and had dealt Jon a crueler punishment. Jon had decided to visit his family that day. And he took his youngest brother out shooting. He still remembered how excited he was, his little brother. Little Rickon. How his face had lit up when Jon invited him to go shooting. How he bounced on his heels when Jon lined up glass bottles at a distance. How much he shook with excitement when Jon had handed him his personal pistol, an H&K P30L. The same brand of pistol his mentor preferred. Rickon’s face had gloomed when he had only hit 4 of the 10 bottles, but it quickly turned to excitement once again when Jon had ruffled his hair and complimented him. It was an impressive job. With no prior training, hitting 4 small targets on your first try was no small feat. Jon thought Rickon had talent. Unfortunately, _he_ thought so as well. _He_ had seen the entire thing. And when Jon finally left his family back home, _he_ made his move. It was too late when Jon got the call from his brother, Robb. _He_ had already made off with his little brother. Jon knew it was him, because _he_ called him not an hour later to gloat that he had him. Jon had feared the worst. Jon thought he would kill Rickon; and it pained Jon to say that he would have preferred that option to what had happened instead. They had taken Rickon somewhere where no one could find him. Then they would train him to be one of them. Jon knew it, because it was what had happened to him.

“Jon” _he_ said merrily “I’m talking to youuu.”

Jon clenched his jaw before relaxing. If his discomfort was noticed, then it was noticed silently.

“Benny”

Benny smiled those obnoxiously white teeth. That sharp jawline complimenting his face. Well, almost everything about Benny complimented him. Everything about Benny was “perfect”. His haircut was always 3 inches long at the top and blended short with scissors on the sides. He always wore pomade to achieve a slick back. If Jon was correct, then it was most likely Suavecito pomade. It was a pomade that Jon used to wear before opting for a natural slick look a few months ago. The vested suit was perfectly tailored to his frame. He was daring and opted to wear a tan colored belt with shiny oxfords. Brown on Black. It went completely against the color code of men’s wear. Of course, Benny could pull it off.

“Oh, Jon. How I love when you call me that. Ok, I’ll forgive your early trespass. We’ve got important things to discuss.”

“Like?” Jon wasn’t sure why Benny had called him all the way over here. Jon didn’t want to see him, he thought he’d make that clear.

Benny simply rolled his eyes, letting out a humored breath.

“A contract Snow. A contract.”

“Then you could’ve sent the client to me.”

“I could have, but this contract is most…irregular.”

“Then save it” Jon snarled “I don’t have any use for one of your little jobs.”

Jon turned on his heel, fully intending to leave until he heard Benny’s next few words.

“Oh, Jon, Jon, Jon. What about little Rickon?”

Jon stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned around, meeting face to face to a shit eating grin. Cold grey eyes met with jovial blues.

“What about him” Jon asked, deadly serious, his right hand resting behind his trousers where his pistol rested. The entire room heard the click of the safety. The security around Benny visibly tensed and placed their hands on their respective pistols. They all looked wary, even Benny. Smiling Benny. He wasn’t smiling anymore; his face had paled, and he had put up his hands in a defensive manner.

“Jon, let’s not do anything we might regret.”

Jon relished in his discomfort. He scanned the area. 15 guards in total. His gun held 15 rounds. One for each guard. Benny? He’d cave his skull in. If he went this route, he couldn’t mess about. Each shot had to be precise and hit its target. Headshot. His biggest priority was Benny and the guard to his right. A man of 6 feet in height, wild red hair and a beard to match. Tormund.

Tormund was Benny’s only capable man, in Jon’s opinion. The rest were just there for the numbers game. He was in his late 30s, burly and fast. He was one of the quickest draws in the game and, in another life, a good friend. Jon always got along with him, always found him to be good company. Of course, that all changed when Benny decided to cross him. Jon would regret killing the man, but to get to Benny? He wouldn’t hesitate.

“Jon” Benny continued, “if you kill me, then you won’t get your brother back.”

Jon’s head whipped to the man and his eyes bore into the man. Benny gestured to him.

“Let’s talk this out Jon. Like men.”

Jon was in turmoil. He couldn’t trust Benny. No one in their right mind would trust Benny. The devil himself wouldn’t trust Benny. And yet, if there was even a glimmer of hope of getting his little brother back…then Jon had to trust him. He clicked the safety back in place and Benny’s security relaxed.

“You’d give me my brother back?”

Benny’s smile returned.

“I’ll do my best Jon. But it all depends on whether or not you’ll do the job.”

Jon was still suspicious. “What kind of job Benny?”

“A rather boring type of job I’m afraid. But if you want your brother back, Jon Snow, then you’ll do it.”

“What. Type. Of. Job.”

Jon and Benny stared at each other, the silence increasing the tension within the room.

“A bodyguard contract.”

That was it. Jon was going to kill this man. He was just playing a game with him. A bodyguard contract? He couldn’t possibly be serious. He was a hitman. A damn good one. He was trained to take lives, not save them.

Benny detected Jon’s apprehension and disbelief.

“I know, I know. Like I said…most irregular. But it seems his majesty is in a desperate situation and in dire need of one. I don’t know why he couldn’t just assign one of his guards. Must be an unqualified lot, I presume.”

“King Rhaegar needs a bodyguard?”

“Yes”

Jon chuckled.

“You’re a daft bastard if you think I’m falling for that one Benny. The King. Needs a bodyguard? Need I remind you that he has Ser Arthur Dayne as his constant shadow.

Benny sighed in exasperation.

“No, you idiot. Of course, Rhaegar doesn’t need a bodyguard. His sister does” Benny said in a matter of fact tone. Then he leaned in towards Jon, “and by the way. I’m not the bastard here Jon.”

7 years ago, Jon would’ve swung a right hook at him but his time training under his mentor had taught him patience and detachment. Instead he decided to go along with the conversation. The hope of saving his brother still in the air.

“So, I protect his sister and you’ll let my brother go?”

“Exactly. So simple. Just do what you would normally do, only opposite. Pretend it’s opposite day every day.”

“For how long?”

“That’s the kicker right there Jon. For a year… or less.”

“A year?!”

“Or less” Benny said, trying to placate him. “The King said the contract would last for up to a year or less. I assume he meant if the threat to her life was gone before the year passed. If the threat is still there after 1 year and she’s still alive (obviously), the King would like to recontract you. Don’t worry. Only a year’s work, or less, and you can have your diddly little brother back. Simple.”

Jon thought about it. It wasn’t bad. He had already lived 6 months without him, and if it meant getting him back then Jon could live with another 12 months.

“Fine. How much is he paying.”

“2 million” Benny responded.

“You’re shitting me? For a year? Benny, I get ten regular clients in a year, each contract worth 200 grand. I also get five high level clients within the same year. That’s 500 grand. Not to mention the one or two elite clients who pay a million for a hit. I make around 7 million in a year and you want me to take a 5-million-pound cut to be a hired muscle?”

“No, Jon. I don’t want you to take a 5-million-pound cut.” Benny slowly approached him, his left hand in his pocket while his right fiddled with his pocket watch. “You want to take that cut. For your brother Jon.”

Jon stared up at the man, realizing he was right. He would take that cut. But then, it hit Jon. Why was Benny calling him?

“Why me?”

"Because” Benny sighed “the King seems to have a requirement for this bodyguard. He wants a “honest, reliable and trustworthy” man.” Benny mocked the King’s words in a feminine type voice.

“So, you chose me?”

“Obviously Jon. Else we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Jon stood in silence before he made his thoughts clear.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

Benny smiled.

“Excellent Jon. Fantastic.”

And with that said, Benny turned on his heel, and walked towards the backseat of an SUV. One of his security opened the door as Tormund made his way to the other side.

Jon was about to leave when something nagged at his mind. What was Benny getting out of this? Benny wasn’t one to act on good will. With Rickon, he essentially controlled Jon. Jon was shackled to him for as long as he held his brother. But with this job, he was willing to let Rickon go? Of course, the first thought that came was that Benny was bullshitting him but Jon quickly wiped that thought. Benny wouldn’t risk that, he knew Jon would come for him if he even tried to double cross him when it came to his brother. He was lucky enough to still be breathing when he took Rickon, lying about giving him back would be the last straw. Benny was a smart individual, no doubt he knew this. But still, it wasn’t good will. He needed something and could only get it with Jon’s help. Jon would find out what was causing him trouble. He would use it to his advantage. He just needed to make a few calls. For now, he’d go with this farce. If he ever found an opportunity to save his brother, then King’s sister be damned, he would drop her to save little Rickon. That was also something, he didn’t even know his client’s name. Of course, he knew King Rhaegar, but Jon wasn’t one for tabloids and never kept in touch with other people’s lives unless it pertained to him or his job. It seemed the King now pertained to his job.

Jon called out to Benny before the man closed the door.

“You said the King’s sister is who I’m meant to protect?”

“Yes” Benny replied “she’s his only sister. Pretty little thing. Though I hear she’s rather vain. I believe her name is Daenerys Targaryen.”

And with that said, Benny closed his door and drove off with his security.


	2. Suiting Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insight into Benny. 
> 
> Jon suiting up

**Benny**

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t in need of a fresh pair of underwear after the encounter with Jon. Figuratively, of course but Benny had thought he would finally bite the bullet when Jon reached for the gun on his back and heard the ‘click’ of the safety being pulled. He must’ve looked like a fool because although Jon’s face had stayed stone, his eyes had shown glee. Yes, Benny knew Jon hated him. He guessed he would hate someone too if they took his brother.

Benny still remembered that day. Jon didn’t know it, but he had ruined one of Benny’s biggest money-making deals. Human Trafficking was very profitable in 2013. Yes, he guessed it seemed horrible, but money was money. It’s not like he was the one forcing them into sex, work or whatever their owners had in mind. No, he was just merely a middle man. A “purveyor of goods” so to speak. All he did was drop them off and pick up a check. He assumed many would deem him just as responsible, but Benny didn’t care. In his book, his hands were clean. Needless to say, though, Jon had killed all of Benny’s contacts. Benny didn’t know why, all he knew was that he would no longer be making money from the trade as every buyer had fled the United Kingdom when they heard what Jon had done to his “managers”. It didn’t help that Benny had a certain debt to settle with a certain individual from the states. Italian fellow, not likeable at all. A certain Santino D’Antonio. Santino was a counselor so to speak. People came to him for help and he would at a cost of something in return. Benny had considered himself lucky as usually Santino asked for certain favors. Santino had only asked money from Benny. Around 4 million US Dollars and in return, Benny would become manager of The Continental in London.

The Continental was young in London, the seeds hadn’t been sowed like in New York or in Rome. Hell not even like in Tokyo or Beijing. No, that meant there was no power structure within their organization. The current favorite to become elected to manager was a rich half man. Tyrion Lannister, son of ruthless Lord and Politician, Tywin Lannister. Tyrion was not like his father, he was too kind to people. He was sharp and quick, but he still tried to look out for the middle and lower man. He was nowhere near the material needed to be a leader of an organization of hitmen, in Benny’s opinion. Tyrion Lannister was also wealthy, which meant he had no use for outside interest. He would not bend for deals just to make a quick coin. Which is why he had used that to his advantage in negotiations with Santino D’Antonio. He promised to be the inner contact for the Italian and Santino had found that proposal to his liking. Normally, the fee would be expected in full up front, but Benny was barely making moves, so he had asked for time. He didn’t know how he pulled it off, he guessed he always had a silver tongue on him and the deal certainly didn’t hurt, but Santino had accepted the offer and gave him until the beginning of 2014 to pay him. That was 6 months ago, when his bill was due and Mr. D’Antonio was not happy at all when Benny came to him with an empty pocket and a tongue more silver than ever. However, Benny had worked his magic and told Santino he’d pay him with interest when he finally recouped his funds. Santino responded that every year late was an interest of an extra million. However, he had a maximum of 3 years to pay. Which meant a total of 7 million dollars was owed to Santino by 2017. Benny once again had talked his life to safety but knew that there would be no more chances after this. He had saved his skin but now had no idea how to coup up 5 million USD now that his main business was finished. That is why he had followed Jon on that fateful, January day. He took Tormund with him with one sole purpose. To kill Jon Snow.

Things ended up falling through when he saw Jon Snow driving into the Stark Mansion in Cambridge. He had not expected for Jon Snow to have high connections. Therfore, one could just imagine Benny’s surprise when Mr. Snow ended up walking into the woods with a young boy of around 15 to shoot some glass bottles at a distance. Benny hadn’t expected much, it was only supposed to be a simple game. He had wholeheartedly expected the boy to miss every shot. But he hadn’t. The boy had managed to pick off around 4 or 5 bottles. Or was it 6? Benny didn’t remember, all he knew was that the boy had talent. Jon also had talent at a young age. He couldn’t remember where he heard it, but Jon had apparently gone on his first contract at 17. He did so well for the better part of 3 years before he was sent to train under an American in New York.

It was a shock to everyone in the Continental. Tyrion Lannister sending a prodigy in Jon Snow to go train in America. The boy was just as good as the elites. He was cold, ruthless and precise. But oh, the dwarf had made a bid for the managerial spot by showing expert thinking by sending their prodigy to the only man who could take Jon Snow to the top.

John Wick.

**Jon**

After the meeting with Benny, he had received a message from said man on where to meet up with King Rhaegar to finalize the details of the contract. He was to meet the man at a coffee shop in Muswell Hill, a northern district of London. It was where Jon lived, and he wondered if the King had found out about his whereabouts or if Benny had tipped him off. Maybe it was only a coincidence, The King resided in London at the Buckingham Palace with his family.

Living in a suburban district went everything against what his mentor had taught him. Isolation was the best life an assassin could live, but Jon just couldn’t stay away from the city. Or rather, the team from the city. Everyone around Jon knew he was a major Arsenal fan. If one didn’t, all they need would be to walk into his flat and look at the posters and pictures on the wall. When Jon had grown up with Robb and Robb’s best friend, Theon Greyjoy, he had been the only Arsenal fan. Everyone around him had been Manchester United fans, even his father. That all changed when Arya was born. She had stuck to him like glue, much to Lady Stark’s chagrin, and had followed in being an Arsenal fan. The Gunners, the nickname of the Arsenal team, had gained another loyal fan on August 17, 1999 when his little brother Rickon had been born.

Jon was then hit with a sudden wave of sadness. He couldn’t save his little brother and now Rickon was being trained to become a monster. Like him. Jon then thought of the deal with The King and Benny in the middle. If Jon held to it, then Rickon would be free. It was a long shot, especially coming from Benny, but he had to take the chance. Plus, he’d find out what Benny was getting from this deal. So, Jon put on a black suit, with matching belt and tie. The only differing was the white dress shirt he wore. He must look professional when presenting himself to royalty. Jon took his cars keys, even though he wouldn’t need them as the coffee shop was merely a ten minute walk from where he lived. He guessed it was a force of habit.

Jon walked out of his flat, locked the door and made his way to the meeting.

**Rhaegar**

Rhaegar sat anxiously in the coffee shop. He had bought out the place for the hour, he didn’t want anyone listening in on the conversation he would have with this “Jon”. Arthur was currently minding the front door of the café, waiting on their guest. The man from The Continental had contacted him last night and gave him the address of the café to be the meeting place. Rhaegar had arrived around half an hour before they were to meet in order for his guards to sweep and secure the area. He ordered a cup, black with a cube of sugar as he waited for the man that would be hired to protect his sister. Rhaegar did not wait past the scheduled meeting as a man in a black suit arrived at the door.

_Very Punctual_

Rhaegar observed as Arthur patted the man down, searching every possible area for any sort of weapon. After a minute of searching, Arthur gestured for Jon to approach and nodded to Rhaegar, the words quite clear.

_He’s clean_

The man called Jon approached Rhaegar and took the seat opposite.

“Mr. Jon, I presume?”

“Snow” The man said curtly. He turned towards the owner “half coffee, half milk. 2 cubes of sugar.”

_So, Jon Snow._ Rhaegar felt as if he’d heard the name before. It wasn’t until the man turned back towards him that he realized who he was. Those familiar grey eyes. The dark hair. Those aristocratic cheekbones. This was the illegitimate son of Eddard Stark. Everyone of the nobles had heard of the son that ran away. Everyone suspected it had to do with the Lady Catelyn. It was no secret that the woman held no love for the boy. However, for a Stark to end up with a band of assassins. What must the honorable Lord Stark think? Still, assassin or not the boy had been raised by Eddard and that put some worries at ease. When The Continental manager had described Jon as “loyal and trustworthy”, Rhaegar had been skeptical. After all, how trustworthy can murderers be? However, now with the man’s parentage known, Rhaegar had begun to believe the manager.

The silence was beginning to grow awkward, so Rhaegar cleared his throat and made the first move.

“So. Your boss tells me you’re the right man for the job. I assume he’s told you. Of the job…”

Rhaegar would be lying if he said he wasn’t uncomfortable with the way the man in front of him stared. He had met plenty of times with Lord Stark and had been the target of the man’s cold gaze…but this stare. It was different. It was purely cold. No anger. No emotion behind it. Just an empty gaze. He thought he detected a tense in Jon’s face when he referred to the manager as his boss, but perhaps he’d only imagined it.

“He did” Jon responded, “and Benny isn’t my boss. He’s just the manager. We don’t have bosses. We just take contracts.”

“Ah… I see. Benny?”

“Bennington” Jon responded, “we just know him as Benny. Been around for a while. Got elected manager a few months ago. God knows how that came to pass, but it happened.”

The owner brought Jon the cup he had ordered. Jon took a sip and leaned forward.

“Your sister, Daenerys. Right?”

Rhaegar nodded.

“I need to know everything. Who I’m protecting her from. How much protection does she need from me? How many days a week. How many hours a day. Do you want me to guard the door when she showers, sleeps? Things like that.”

Rhaegar nodded in understanding.

“Yes. I guess I should start with the enemies. A terrorist organization from the middle east has decided that the English military is unwanted. The Sons of the Harpy is what they call themselves. They’ve concluded that if they attack the royal family, it will convince us to leave. So, the plan is simple, you protect her until we eliminate the threat.”

Jon snorted at that.

“Is something humorous?”

Jon took a deep breath before a small, but humorless, grin appeared upon his face.

“You’ve occupied a foreign territory. Killed their people and yet you seem baffled that they want to eliminate you” Jon said.

Rhaegar was in no mood for jests. His nostrils flared as he snarled a retort.

“These savages murder their own civilians for trivial matters. As simple as listening to “pop” will warrant you a death sentence.”

Jon stared at him, before taking another sip of his coffee.

“I’m not saying what they’re doing is right. I’m also not saying what they’re doing is wrong.”

Rhaegar looked disgusted at that statement. It only warranted a laugh from the man in front of him.

“Listen, your grace. Maybe you’re right. Maybe they are. Their murders are derived from their religion. At one time, were the Christians so different? You may think you’re bringing order. And, I agree, you are. But these people have lived their way of life for centuries and now you want them to change.”

Rhaegar was silent. Jon finished his coffee in one gulp and met directly with Rhaegar’s lilac eyes.

“So…what does the contract entail?”

“I want her protected at all times when she’s out of the palace. Everywhere she goes, you follow. And yes, if she goes to the restroom or places of privacy, I expect you to guard the door. Call me strict, but I don’t plan to let her leave the palace on the weekends. That way I know she’s safe and you get days off. I’m sure you have plans to yourself.”

Jon nodded.

“Alright” Jon said “I’ll take the contract.”

Relief washed upon Rhaegar’s face.

“On one condition”

Jon leaned forward on his elbow’s and Rhaegar became nervous.

“What condition” Rhaegar questioned.

“What are you giving Benny?”

Silence reigned between them for a moment before Rhaegar responded.

“Pardon”

“What are you giving Benny? I’ve known the man for years, and he offered me something. Something I’d rather much like back on the accordance I did this job. He’s not a generous man and all he requires of me is to perform and excel at this contract. Which means he’s getting what he wants, somewhere else. So, what are you giving him?”

_I knew that slimy bastard was up to something. Bold of him, to try and swindle the King. Well, it would’ve worked I guess had Jon not just told me._

“He asked for 7 million pounds.”

Jon nodded.

“And you’re paying me 2 million.”

“Yes, and I don’t plan to pay this Benny what he asked now that you-“

Jon looked sharply at him.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said” he asked in a deadly tone.

Rhaegar nervously glanced at Arthur and was surprised to see his guard look visibly calm by the door.

“I told you that Benny has what I want. Which means if you want me to protect your sister, you’re going to pay him what he wants. That way I get what I want.”

Jon stood up from his seat, left a few notes on the table and made his way to the door. However, before he left, he decided to throw a bombshell on the King.

Jon stopped by the door and turned to Arthur Dayne.

“Uncle” he said.

“Jon” Arthur nodded.

And then Jon Snow left, leaving a baffled King behind in a café.

Rhaegar looked at his most loyal friend and guard. Arthur met his gaze and merely shrugged. _Well, I guess everyone has their secrets._ Even his best friend.

**Jon**

Jon quickly made his way to his flat in order to make a call, in privacy. He looked around his apartment and saw the dog bowl in the corner of the living room. That reminded him, he still needed to pick up Ghost from his neighbor, Samwell Tarly. A rare smile formed on Jon’s lips when he thought of his pet.

Ghost was an albino husky. He was purely white, almost silvery under the sun with the brightest blue eyes. He had been born with red eyes, but they developed normally as he grew. Jon still remembered the day he had gotten him. It was a gift from his father, a mere pup. It was his father’s way of apologizing for what had happened. The smile on Jon’s face quickly went away as he remembered his home life and what led to him running away. It all revolved second person he hated the most. Catelyn Stark. He remembered the sideway glances she gave him. Jon always knew he was different. Although he shared the same grey eyes with his father, his father’s hair was a deep brown whereas Jon’s was purely black. Lady Catelyn’s hair was an auburn, a color she shared with 4 out of 5 of her children. Yes, Jon never assumed she was his mother. Her cold glances were proof enough.

Jon breathed and dispelled those thoughts. It was the past, there was no use changing it. No, instead he looked down at the contact on his phone and hit the call button. He raised the phone to his hear, waiting for the pickup on the other line.

Finally, the line was picked up.

_Hello_

It’s Jon. I need to meet with you. I’m free next week. Saturday. Noon.

**Daenerys**

For a week she had been smug. Her victory lived only a week. Daenerys was sure that her brother had failed to find a suitable guard for her. Her smugness had died on the morning of Monday when she was preparing to go out to the shopping district. Her brother Rhaegar had stopped her before she had left the doors.

“Daenerys” he called out.

She had stopped in her tracks and raised an eyebrow at the cheery step in his walk.

_What’s got him so upbeat?_

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes. I’m going to the shopping district. Wanted to come?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, but sister. Where is your guard?” He looked around frantically, in an obvious and dramatic manner.

Daenerys rolled her eyes at her brother. _Is he still with this?_ For a brief moment, Daenerys was nervous that her brother had learned to swallow his pride and would assign Ser Darry to her, but it quickly went away. _Rhaegar would rather die than swallow his pride._

“I’m going now brother” she said. A snooty tone to her voice.

She paused when she saw a smirk form on her brother’s lips. Then it hit her. The cheery step to his walk. The conversation centering around a body guard. Daenerys’ eyes widened and Rhaegar’s smirk grew.

No. How did he…how did he find her a guard. She was sure that no one could compare in skill to Ser Darry, but here her brother was.

“Oh sister” he looked down at his watch. “You’re in luck. You won’t have to wait at all. It’s 2 minutes until 11. He should be…” and he looked outside through the window by the doors.

“Ah! He’s early.”

He turned towards his sister and gave a mocking kiss on her forehead.

“Enjoy your day”

And he walked off.

Daenerys laid her eyes on the white car that pulled into the driveaway and bore holes into the dark-haired man as he walked towards the door.

**Jon**

It was Monday morning and he had woken up at 6 am. It was the day he would begin his contract. As he stirred from his bed, Ghost had woken up already. Jon had picked him up yesterday, after he had made his phone call. Jon played with his good boy for about an hour before he fed Ghost and went to shower.

Steam had fogged up the glass walls of the shower as Jon stood there, letting the water rain down onto his head and pour down over his body. He had always taken long showers. It was the reason for his early rising. He always reminisced in there, thought about his life and where it all went to shit. He thought about his time in America, training under his mentor Mr. Wick and Marcus. He thought about his family. He thought about Robb, he was more than likely sitting down in an office at Stark Corp. He thought about Sansa, the superficial sister that still loved him. It was true, she was a real diva, but even when her mother had tried to turn her against him, she had still loved him without fail. It didn’t change that she thought she was better than most. Maybe in another life she would have hated him. He thought of Bran, always curious. Always involved in athletics. He had joined the “parkour” wave and was very good at it. He remembered his father scolding him, because Bran had decided to climb, along with some friends, Old Trafford Stadium. How he didn’t get caught was beyond him. He thought of Arya, the girl that tried to follow him in his footsteps. She was one of his favorites, up along with Rickon. He remembered the void in his heart during one of their conversations.

_“When I grow up Jon, I want to be just like you” she beamed._

_Jon sat there, emotionless._

_“Jon” Arya said, confused, “what’s wrong.”_

_He had embraced her then, kissing her forehead._

_“You don’t want to be like me” he said, gruffly._

Jon thought he had succeeded in protecting his family. Only his father knew what he was. He had made his father swear his secrecy. His father accepted, and Jon thought he was free. But then Benny had taken Rickon. Rickon. His little brother.

Jon smacked the stone wall in front of him, ignoring the stinging sensation as redness swelled on his palm. He turned off the shower and stepped out. He put on a pair of boxer briefs before walking to his kitchen to fix himself a bowl of cereal. Honey Bunches of Oats, those were his favorites. Ghost was lazing around on the sofa. He planned on dropping him of with Sam again, but decided against it. Ghost was a well-trained boy and could push the food dispenser Jon had bought a while back. The flat had AC and a window for Ghost to look out of into the city. His boy was in good hands by himself. Jon read the clock, 8 am. It was a thirty minute drive from Muswell Hill to the Buckingham palace, which meant he had until 10:30 to get ready.

_Plenty of time._

He decided to get on his laptop to browse the web and check the latest news on Arsenal transfers. It seemed that Alexis Sanchez was heavily linked from Barcelona. Personally, Jon preferred Marco Reus to join the club, but Sanchez had a world class World Cup. England had been embarrassed at the world cup…again. Anyways, with Reus out injured, it was unlikely he’d move the summer.

_Oh well._

Finally, the clock hit 9:30. Jon got up and went to the bathroom in order to brush his teeth and pick out an outfit for the day, from his closet. Jon stepped into his closet, rows of jackets and pants on hangers. Each perfectly tailored to fit. Each with silicon carbide sewn into the fabric to stop bullets. Still painful. Though, Jon preferred a bruising pain to a bullet hole.

Jon first grabbed a white J. Crew undershirt from the top drawer in the closet. Growing up with the Starks, Jon had been a staunch believer in not wasting money. He always found spending more than 10 pounds on an undershirt to be useless. That was until Mr. Wick had introduced him to the various luxury brands. The fabric really made a difference, especially when on long jobs.

Jon then grabbed a white button up shirt, also J. Crew, but applied deodorant before buttoning it up. He decided on to wear black when on bodyguard duty. It was classic and didn’t draw much attention. The jacket was slim, 2 buttons with a minimal lapel. He decided against a pocket square. The pants, or trousers, were tapered with a single break at the bottom where it met the shoes. Speaking of shoes, he wore black oxford Cole Haan’s, a matching black belt. Also, Cole Haan. The black tie? J. Crew.

Jon liked consistency. Same brand jacket and trousers. Same brand belt and shoes. Same brand shirts and tie. Now for the finishing touch. A good first impression also stemmed from one’s smell. Jon went opted to finally wear the Gucci Guilty Intense cologne his sister, Sansa, had gotten him for Christmas. He had stayed away from it as he’d never found the occasion and had heard of its poor performance in longevity. But, in Sansa’s words, “The ladies are crazy for it! It’ll help you finally get a girlfriend.” Jon shook his head. He didn’t need a woman, especially not in this business. Anyway, when browsing the internet, he had stumbled on an article that apparently helped solve this problem. If you sprayed a poor performing cologne on a dab of scentless lotion, it would apparently enhance its performance. So, he had bought a bottle of scentless lotion and put that theory to the test.

Jon had found that he really liked the smell of the cologne. It was very fruity yet…manly at the same time. Whether it attracted the ladies was redundant to Jon. He liked it.

Finally, Jon pumped about a teaspoon of hair oil to run it through his curly locks in order to slick it behind his ears. He was finally ready. The clock read 10:15, which prompted Jon to head out at the moment. One could never know with traffic.

He gave Ghost a big kiss on his furry forehead before wiping his lips and applying a lip balm and heading out.

Hang on. Jon nearly hit himself for his stupidity. He ran to the painting at the end of the main hallway, where it held a secret compartment. He pushed a hidden black button on the painting to prompt it open. There, his H&K P30L custom gun along with its many bullets waited patiently for him. He had a gun inside the console of his Jaguar, but that was mainly a backup in case his primary gun was taken. It was always good to be prepared.

Jon glanced up at the clock.

10:20 am.

He practically sprinted to his car and thank god he did. He had barely made it to the palace with 2 minutes to spare. Jon sat in his car, wondering if it was too late to fall out of the contract. But he couldn’t. His brother needed him. He cracked his neck and grabbed the sunglasses stored in the visor. Black Aviator Ray-Bans.

Yes, Mr. Wick had shown him the luxurious side of life.

He made his way to the doors of the palace and knocked. The doors opened immediately, showing a petite woman with silver hair and lilac colored eyes. She wore what looked like a white dress, although it could have been a skirt. A very high skirt that was covered by a blue crop top shirt. She wore white heels. As for her face, it was no lie that she was a beauty. Even with the glare she was currently giving him, the “natural” makeup with pink lipstick made her a sight for the eyes. He supposed many men had made themselves fools in her presence. But Jon was not many men.

He nodded his head towards.

“Good morning ma’am” he said. “My name is Jon Snow and I am to be your bodyguard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone leaving a review on the last chapter! I wholeheartedly enjoyed reading every single one of them.
> 
> But. You wanna know what else I wholeheartedly enjoyed? Writing this chapter. Mainly Jon suiting up. I've always had a heart for Men's fashion. I also added in a bit of football talk, Jon needed something to do for an hour. 
> 
> The next chapter won't be coming so soon, I'm afraid. Finals week is this week and the next. After that, I'm free. Don't worry, it won't be a two week wait for the next chapter. But you might have to wait until this Friday or Saturday.
> 
> Daenerys' outfit:  
> https://www.popsugar.com/fashion/photo-gallery/31639847/image/31678690/Emilia-Clarke-paired-turquoise-crop-top-white-high-waisted
> 
> Imagine Emilia with silver hair and lilac eyes.  
> Cheers.


	3. First Tensions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys and Jon finally exchange words.
> 
> Rhaegar and Arthur speak.
> 
> Jon meets a certain insecure boyfriend.

**Daenerys**

“Good morning ma’am. My name is Jon Snow and I am to be your bodyguard”

Those were the first words she had heard from him. It was gruff northern English accent, devoid of any emotion…yet it wasn’t a dead tone either. It was just there. She knew he wasn’t from London, he didn’t speak with the common Cockney she had heard around her while walking the streets of the shopping district, but he didn’t speak with one of the higher class accents around London either. His eyes were grey, almost silver in the light, and his beard was cropped short. His lips were full and his eyebrows thick. His hair was pushed back behind his ear with oil, she suspected, but she could see the thick curls as the swept down to his shoulders. Yes, her bodyguard was an attractive man, but Daenerys was a beautiful woman.

She walked up to him, eyes narrowed in anger.

“I don’t _need_ a bodyguard” she hissed at him.

She stepped up to him in a means of intimidation. He was on the shorter end, which meant her forehead reached his chin, she did not have to tilt her head much to meet his eyes with her own. If Jon Snow had won any favor with her in their short encounter, it was now gone. Daenerys prided herself in being authoritative, only a strong man that could wrap his arms around her could hope to match her in passion. Jon Snow was much too little for her.

He simply looked down at her with bored grey eyes that only fueled her inner fury. She was a princess and the most beautiful woman he would ever meet, yet he looked at her as if he could find a better use for his time. Her eyes narrowed as her nostrils flared. She stuck her chest out to him in attempts to distract his attention downwards. She inwardly smirked as she was sure she would win. However, he simply turned from her and made his way towards his white car. Daenerys had been incensed at first until a knowing smirk had made its way upon her face. _It seems that the bodyguard is turning tail and running away from the dragon_ she thought mockingly. It seemed that it would not be her day, however, as Jon Snow made walked toward the rear door of his vehicle and opened it, turning towards her expectantly.

“It’d be best to make our way now ma’am. The sun is with us and you can enjoy your endeavors for the day.”

He stood there, holding the door open for her. He wasn’t wrong. It was a rare occurrence when the sun decided to warm London. Usually it was a cold place. Sure, there was regular sun, but the heat usually didn’t come with it. Honestly, Daenerys wondered why London was even popular to begin with. It was summer, yet it still managed to hit cool temperatures at times with “healthy” doses of rain. Daenerys would hate when winter finally came. Still, that didn’t mean she was one to relent. She stood her ground in the same exact spot, her glare would’ve killed him twice over now.

Yet, he still didn’t move. He just stood there, vacant yet expectant expression still on his face. She blinked once and then twice. Was he serious? Was he seriously not going to leave her alone? She contemplated on continuing this petty game, but she was never one for patience. She huffed as she stormed her way over to him, flipping, no, whipping her hair over her shoulder as she bent in to sit in the backseat of his vehicle. She leaned into him before he closed the door, ready to make a verbal assault, but she couldn’t. She was completely disoriented when his scent hit her nose. She couldn’t pinpoint it. It felt like it wanted to smell like lavender and citrus at the same time. Then a sort of aromatic scent kicked in. It should not have worked…but it did. Daenerys’ eyes darkened as she noticed the way his button up hugged his chest. She could see the contours of where the shirt clung to his muscles. Her eyes darted up to where his skin finally showed, his neck. She could make out where his facial hair also grew but was shaven. She noted the bulge of his throat. How it moved up and down with every breath he took.

“Are you alright ma’am?”

Suddenly Daenerys was snapped out of her fervor. She looked up at her new bodyguard with fire in her eyes before taken a seat and slamming the car door shut. She didn’t look at him again, but from her peripheral vision she could see him making his way over to the driver seat.

She heard the engine start and met his eyes from the rear-view mirror.

“Where to ma’am?”

“The shopping district” she huffed “didn’t you hear me earlier?”

He simply gazed at her through the mirror.

“I’m afraid not ma’am. It must have slipped my mind.”

In truth she hadn’t told him, she was just in a temperamental mood at the moment. She had told Rhaegar where she was headed, but Jon had barely arrived when that conversation happened. Considering that his gaze always seemed lax but intense, she knew that he was aware that no conversation between them had happened. That meant he was someone that tended to avoid conflict.

Daenerys rolled her eyes. _What a complete pushover._

“Oxford Street” she finally said. She had made a couple friends that had shops on that district. “Know it?”

“I know where it’s located ma’am” he nodded.

Daenerys bit back the urge to spit fire at this man. He absolutely infuriated her. First, he completely ignored her and looked at her with a gaze of disinterest. As if he had anything better to do. Secondly, his manner of speaking. It was so proper that it was disgusting. It seemed as if he was a robot when speaking with her. Always “ma’am”. She had hoped he would call her “miss” or refer to her by her name, so she could take the chance to remind him of his place. He had robbed her of that. Finally, the stupid car. What was it? He was a bodyguard to a princess! Didn’t he have a Bentley? Or a Rolls Royce at the very least? What type of commoner had her brother hired for her? She much would have preferred Ser Darry at this point. Instead she was stuck with this “Jon Snow”.

Daenerys looked out the window when she heard a noise from her cell.

**_DING_ **

_Hey. Where are you?_

Daenerys’ eyes widened as she groaned in frustration. She was so caught up with the recent, and unwelcome, events that she had completely forgotten that she had already had plans for the day. She had asked Daario to take her to the mall and they were supposed to go out and have fun. She was hoping they could have time alone as they walked the shops of Oxford street. Maybe they could go and eat someplace and finally end the night on a good note. The kind of night where she could let loose and scream her lungs out. She just knew Daario would be very good at sex. Just the thought of it sent heat between her legs and she rubbed her thighs together to ease the tension. She had completely forgotten that she wasn’t alone in the vehicle. It seemed her bodyguard was very attentive. He didn’t ignore her like the rest of the guards from the palace. Then again, she had ordered the other guards to leave her alone. He had cleared his throat to get her attention.

“You all right ma’am” he asked.

“Yes” she snapped at him “pay attention to the road. I’m busy”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“We are at a red-light ma’am.”

She looked towards her left and noticed that he was right. She felt stupid and felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment. So, she huffed and turned away from him.

“Then pay attention in case it turns green” she replied weakly.

She felt like a complete fool. He didn’t say anything more and she assumed that he had done just that. 5 seconds passed before they started moving again.

“We need to go back” she blurted out.

He looked her again from the rear view and inquired why.

“Because I was actually supposed to go with my boyfriend. Just go back” she hissed.

He simply looked back at the road and kept driving.

“We’re two minutes off. He can meet us there” he responded, with that gruff northern accent that was beginning to grate on her nerves.

Daenerys never considered one to be childish, but to be fair she had never been denied in her life. So, she did the only thing that she could think of. She began to kick his seat.

“Take us back” she yelled.

“Stop that” he said, neutral tone still in place.

Maybe she was looking for any sort of reaction, because she was tired of his indifference. So, her screaming turned into screeching.

“Take me back! Take me back, you northern barbarian!” She kept kicking his seat and punching it. She refrained from actually assaulting him physically since he was driving. She would not have hesitated under other circumstances. Still, he kept repeating “stop that” as he drove, deadpan stare and neutral tone to go with it. It only fueled her ire.

Finally, she was forced to shut up as he forcefully slammed the brakes. Daenerys cried as she bounced forward onto the seat, she had to use her forearms to avoid any damage to her face. In turn, her forearms had turned red and she sat dazed as she tried to look at him from the rearview. He didn’t turn towards her, only kept his eyes forward.

“We’re here ma’am. We can wait for your boyfriend to arrive if you’d like.”

Her breath was caught in her throat as he finally made eye contact through the mirror. His eyes no longer held indifference, only contempt.

“Are you alright ma’am?” his neutral tone had stayed. “You should take care and wear your seatbelt. Traffic in London causes abrupt stops.”

She had sat there in complete shock, staring at him with wide eyes. When the dazing had finally subsided, the dragon within her returned. Her gaze hardened, and her perfect white teeth bared.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she hissed. “I am Princess Daenerys Targaryen and you _will_ listen to me. I will not overlook this insolence and you can kiss whatever my brother is paying you “goodbye”. He will hear of this.”

His gaze returned to that of indifference and he stretched his neck as if there was tension in it. Then, when Daenerys thought he’d return her stare through the mirror or look back forwards, he turned around, placing a hand on the headrest of the passenger seat and looked directly into her eyes.

“You are free to do so later, if you wish so, ma’am but please note that your brother is paying me to keep you safe. I’m a hired bodyguard not security. Yes, there is a difference and even more so when you are being hired by a differing party. If you had hired me yourself, then as you wish ma’am, I would head back in haste. However,” his eyes narrowed, those grey orbs hardening with intent. It sent shivers down her spine and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel something else at his gaze.

“Your brother hired me to protect you. He allowed you certain free reign out of the castle. You want to go shopping? Be my guest. You want to go for a stroll in the park? I’m at your call ma’am. You need privacy while outside the palace? Then go ahead and ask for it. But when you ask for these things ma’am, we do it my way. I know what guns for hire are capable of, believe me ma’am, I know. And the last thing I need when defending a princess from guns for hire is a self-absorbed princess that thinks the world should bow and scrape at her feet. You want to get rid of me? Go ahead ma’am, convince your brother if you can, I won’t stop you. But for the remainder of this day, while I’m still employed, I _will_ try to keep you alive.”

He turned back forward, not making eye contact with her again, neither through the mirror or directly.

_DING_

_Hello._

She stared at her phone for a few seconds before finally replying.

_‘Sorry, I’m already here. Something came up, I’ll explain when you get here. Meet me at Boux Ave’_

_DING_

_Boux Ave? I like where this is going ;)_

She rolled her eyes, a small smile spreading to her face despite recent events. She viewed herself from the rearview mirror and flatted her hair down from hitting the seat when the asshole in front of her tapped the brakes. _Traffic my ass._

Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she haughtily informed Jon Snow where they were headed and stepped out of the car, not waiting for him to open it for her.

**Rhaegar**

When Rhaegar had left his sister downstairs, he had quickly sprinted upstairs and to the window overlooking the entrance as soon as he was out of sight. A part of it _was_ to make sure his sister hadn’t left without proper protection, but mainly to see the interaction between princess and bodyguard. Rhaegar himself had been a little on edge with conversing with Jon Snow but now that he was clear of him, he was excitedly anticipating this Jon Snow to do the same to his sister.

When his sister had answered the door, a part of him had accepted that it wouldn’t happen. That Jon Snow would fall victim like every other man and be left enchanted by his sister’s beauty. He was pleasantly surprised and very smug when Jon Snow’s disinterested gaze remained in place. From their lip movements, Jon Snow had only said one statement before it fully set off his sister into “dragon” mode. He winced as he saw her spit and spew at the man, embarrassment and shame creeping into Rhaegar. He couldn’t believe his sister could be so childish in front of a stranger. He wanted the Earth to open and swallow him whole.

It didn’t help that Rhaegar soon felt horror when he saw Jon turn around a walk away from Daenerys. _Oh no._ He had wholeheartedly thought that his sister had managed to drive Jon Snow off. He knew it wouldn’t be from fear but from annoyance. His sister could really be a brat at times, despite being 23 years of age. He weakly swallowed as he realized he would have to swallow his pride and ask Ser Darry to look after Daenerys. It was terrible but, for the sake of his pride, Rhaegar had hoped that whatever was afflicting Jon Snow to accept this contract would be strong enough to convince him to turn back around.

His prayers were answered…partly. While Jon Snow did turn around, it wasn’t to march back to Daenerys to order her into the car, though Rhaegar would have loved to have seen it, but rather to hold the car door open and respectfully ask her to take a seat.

_The perfect gentleman…if he wasn’t a gun for hire turned bodyguard that only accepted this contract most likely to unwanted circumstances where he needed something badly._

Rhaegar shrugged. He saw Jon Snow finally make it to the driver’s side, pause for a few seconds before finally heading off. Rhaegar kept his eye on the vehicle as it left the gates of the palace.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. Jon will take care of her.”

Rhaegar turned to the familiar voice. His loyal shadow, best friend…and surprising uncle to the man he had employed. Arthur Dayne.

Rhaegar nodded to him.

“You wouldn’t lie to a good friend, would you Arthur?”

Arthur chuckled, still standing a good distance away. Rhaegar noted that while Jon Snow looked nothing like his good friend physically, the way they both stood and carried themselves was highly similar. Rhaegar had guess from their first meeting that Jon Snow was Eddard Stark’s son, runaway son, but he still had to make sure.

“How do you know him Arthur? Did you watch the boy grow?”

Arthur shook his head, a frown on his face as he stepped forward.

“As you know by now, he’s my nephew. Ashara” Arthur said her name as if he knew the underlying question that Rhaegar wanted to ask. Arthur continued.

“Years ago, more than two decades, my sister had fallen in love with Eddard Stark. I would have been fine with it, if Eddard hadn’t already been married to Catelyn Tully” Arthur almost seemed to desire to spit at the woman’s name, a rare sneer present on his face. “They had eloped together, he had told her that he would divorce Catelyn and marry her. That plan came crashing down when it had been discovered the Catelyn was pregnant the day after his and my sister’s passion. Only a single night of passion, but that all it takes, isn’t it? Ashara found out she was pregnant as well, and little Eddard Stark was caught at an impasse. What to do? What to do? I’m sure that question plagued him for 9 months. At first, I’m sure he would have done the right thing and stayed with his lady wife, she was to give him a child. Then a month later he finds out that the love his life is pregnant…also with his child. Maybe it was an act of cruelty from God, maybe it was an act of mercy, but the month after Eddard’s eldest was born, my sister had gone into labor.”

Arthur inhaled and took a deep breath, steadying himself. Rhaegar did not know how to respond, it was so rare for Arthur to be disorganized.

“Remember” his friend continued “remember that night that I had suddenly left? I said it had been an emergency.”

Rhaegar nodded, eyes wide. Arthur had never spoken of that day. It was uncharacteristic for him to leave his post.

“I travelled to the hospital up in Cambridge. My sister had decided to stay in an apartment near Eddard. I remember, seeing her pale, and weak. She gave me a watery smile. She had told me it would be fine. Eddard was nowhere in sight” he said bitterly. Then he became somber.

“I held her hand, she must have squeezed it with the little strength she had left. She told me it would be fine. I remember, they took her into a room, with white doors. They told me I had to wait outside. The doctors took Ashara into the room and…” Arthur’s voice had become shaky. His friend looked at his feet. Rhaegar placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, giving a squeeze in reassurance.

“They took her into the room and…” Arthur tried to continue. “They-they…”

Rhaegar’s heart hurt for him. He had known what had happened. But he didn’t stop him, he knew that Arthur needed to finish his sentence and come to terms with what had happened. It would be the first step into healing after so many years.

“They took Ashara into the room…and I never saw her again” he finished sadly. Arthur’s eyes had become glassy and his demeanor had slouched. No longer did he stand tall and proud.

Rhaegar let him grieve in silence before asking what happened to the child.

“Well, she had given birth to him. And he didn’t have a name, they had to cut her open to take him out. She had already passed, and her body had constricted. They said he was blessed by God, that he was lucky to be alive. I thought he was the child of a devil and I hated just the sight of him.”

Rhaegar had to stifle a gasp and prevent himself from recoiling. He couldn’t believe it. Arthur seemed so positive when speaking of his nephew, to hear such a thing was almost blasphemy to Rhaegar’s ears. Arthur noticed his discomfort and gave a weak smile.

“Yes. For 15 years, I hated the boy. It’s funny, it wasn’t like that forever. For a fleeting moment, when they placed him in my arms, I almost unconditionally loved him. I remember the nurse asking if I wanted to name him. Ashara never had the chance. But before I could, Eddard finally decided to have the gall to grace his presence onto the hospital staff. He barged in claiming he was the father. And just like that, they ripped the boy from my hands. Just like that, I hated the him again.”

Rhaegar looked sadly at his friend, the boy wasn’t to blame in all this. Still, he wanted to know what had changed. So, once again, he asked.

“Your mother and sister changed me” he said. Now, that was interesting.

“I don’t quite remember how it was brought up between us, but everyone knew that Ashara had passed in childbirth. No one knew who the father was. Only the coinciding families involved. Rhaella had always been curious. Especially after the death of Aerys. And she and Elia had loved Ashara. So, they interrogated me on what I knew. So, I told them, I told them what had happened, who Eddard was. And how much I hated Jon Stark. Yes, Jon Snow was born Jon Stark. It wasn’t until your mother and wife slapped me, angry tears in their eyes, that I finally decided to seek the boy out. I thought your mother would burn me alive.”

Rhaegar chuckled, nodding at the man’s true words.

“So, I drove to Cambridge. I walked up those steps into Winterfell manor and I demanded an audience with Eddard Stark. God, I was so nervous. I remember all the teenagers, children coming up to greet me. “It’s Ser Arthur.” I gave so many half assed greetings. My stomach was turning, I was so anxious and scared to see a teenager with dark hair and grey eyes. I almost turned tail and ran, but Eddard had come from one of the corridors and the room stood still. Lady Catelyn stared in shock, no doubt not expecting her husband’s lover’s brother to show up after being away for so many years. I curse the day that demon bitch was born”

Rhaegar flinched when Arthur slammed his fist on the wall adjacent to him. He stood in dumb silence as Arthur mumbled more curses under his breath.

“Nonetheless, I couldn’t run anymore. Seeing him after so many years, and I didn’t feel anger. I had begun to accept it. In the moment, I just wanted to see my nephew. So, I said the usual formalities and made small conversation. Eddard was smiling, happy and…relieved that I no longer held my sister’s death against him. It wasn’t until I asked to see the boy that his smile died. And that’s when I knew, that something was wrong. He gave some half assed excuse, but I could always see through people’s bullshit. Finally, he told me that Jon had run away. I didn’t know why at the time, all I know was that Jon ran away. No one ran away from a happy home. No one. I punched him. I punched Eddard so hard I think I broke his jaw. I hope I broke it. I heard his little witch scream and saw all his guards reach for their guns.”

Arthur snorted.

“As if they could kill me. As if they could hope to even outdraw me. To land a shot for those I entertained to live long enough. There were 15 men. I had 15 bullets. And there would be 15 corpses when I was done. And I would beat Eddard within a fraction of his life if he didn’t tell me where my nephew was. God, I felt like such a fucking hypocrite. I hated the boy for 15 years, and here I was, ready to kill and beat a man as if they had killed Ashara themselves. I heard a boy cry and I turned to the source. It was boy, no older than 6, he had wild curly hair. It seemed to be a mix between his father and mother, but the eyes were all Tully. Rickon Stark. He ran up to me and begged me not to hit his father. The guards had tensed, not wanting to catch the boy in the crossfire. And to my shock, Eddard threw himself to my feet and begged for my forgiveness. I could barely make out the words from his mouth. Now that I think about it, I’m fairly confident I broke his jaw. I could see tears in his eyes as he looked at me. Those eyes were the same I was hoping to see. But not from him. Seeing the noble Eddard Stark reduced to tears, clutching my feet and crying for forgiveness. It was the most pitiful sight I had ever seen. I forcefully wrenched my foot from him, he fell forward as he was using it for supports. And I left.”

Arthur met Rhaegar’s eyes and Rhaegar felt a chill. They were a different hue, but they were the same cold eyes he had briefly seen at a café a few days ago.

“I no longer curse Eddard Stark for my sister’s death. That was God’s doing and I’m no one to question him. I don’t curse him for choosing his bitch, Catelyn. They were betrothed, I have no reason to deny what was set in stone. I don’t curse Eddard Stark for becoming my sister’s lover. They had fallen in love, who am I to question that? No, I curse Eddard Stark for showing up at the hospital that day. I curse him for taking Jon from my arms.”

Rhaegar shuddered as Arthur stood face to face with him. An angry Dayne was a sight to tremble at. Even for a dragon.

“I could have loved him. I _would_ have loved him. I could’ve been the best father there ever was. And Jon would make something honest of his life. He could be a doctor, a lawyer or even a professor. Instead, he’s been cursed to the life he lives. All because Eddard Stark couldn’t keep his demon wife in line” Arthur spat.

Arthur’s violet eyes met with Rhaegar’s lilac. Rhaegar suddenly felt smaller, a nervous sweat running down his temple. His friend’s anger was not directed at him, but only a fool wouldn’t tremble at the wrath of Arthur Dayne. Be his source of ire or not.

It was only Rhaegar’s duty and attitude as King that finally gave him the courage to clear his throat. The revelation of the background was an eye opener. He suspected his mother and wife knew, but it felt genuine coming from Arthur. Still, Rhaegar needed to know how Jon had come with a band of assassins and how he and Arthur had become acquainted. So, for the third time, he prodded his friend.

Arthur stared at him with calculating eyes before sighing.

“I’m sorry, even your mother doesn’t know that part” he replied. “But, when my nephew proves himself to you and gains your trust. Come to me. And I’ll tell you everything. Your grace.” Arthur nodded his head at the last two words and turned heel to walk off.

Rhaegar couldn’t help himself one last question.

“Arthur!”

His friend paused, slightly turning his head in attention.

“Do you truly still blame Eddard for what happened. 9 years ago?”

Arthur rounded on Rhaegar and fire burned behind his eyes.

“I curse Eddard until the day that I die.”

Arthur turned back around and stormed away.

**Jon**

They were standing outside a lingerie store, Boux Avenue. They were waiting on Daenerys’ boyfriend. Or rather, she was. He was busy trying to keep her alive. That entailed surveying the area and making note of anyone suspicious.

The King had stated that the party responsible for the threats were a Middle East based terrorist group known as “The Sons of the Harpy.” That meant it was safe for Jon to eliminate any suspects that looked of Middle Eastern Origin. The logic was simple, assuming an assassin would come from the same ethnical region was a logical assumption. Considering the target was a white female, living in a, mainly, white populous area, Jon knew his target would in fact be white. That significantly narrowed his suspects down. But that didn’t mean that the suspect in question would be white, but that it’d be a high chance of it. The next criteria would be anything out of the ordinary. Even though he was confident there wouldn’t be an assassin that was Islamic, it didn’t mean that there couldn’t be an assassin from a differing ethnicity. Black, Asian, Latin. Anything that was unusual would be put on his radar. Three simple rules that narrowed the field down.

One: It won’t be an assassin from the same ethnical region.

Two: The assassin most likely will be from the same race as target. In this case, white.

Three: Look for anything out of the ordinary.

So far, he had picked up no one. Male or Female. Jon then thought about the possibility of a Continental assassin being the suspect. Why not? They were professionals, they lived for this and trained for this. Only one problem. Continental assassins stayed under the radar. Only the best of the elite would take this job. Any other grunt would more than likely fuck it up and bring attention to their society. No, that meant the list was narrowed down to four specific hitmen in their organization. One of them was currently protecting the target.

The other three? Tormund. He was big, silent, and deadly. Actually, the second attribute may be put to question, but he was effective and had never been caught. He also happened to be Benny’s right hand man. That swiftly eliminated him from the suspect list. Benny was responsible for putting Jon on this path and definitely needed for Jon to complete this contract.

Bronn. Tyrion’s right hand. He was on the older side of the organization, but Jon wasn’t an idiot to let that fool him. The man was quick and could daze you with a right hook. Silent, precise and to the point. He didn’t bother for the shootouts. If someone went missing without a trace, dead without any answer, guards still alive and confused? That meant Bronn had payed a visit. And no target had ever escaped him. He was a possible suspect, but Jon shook that thought out. Unlike every other assassin that reported to the manager, Bronn only reported to Tyrion. Seeing as Tyrion didn’t need money and Jon didn’t suspect him of wanting the Targaryen’s dead, he’d eliminate Bronn from the list. For now.

Ramsay. Now this was a tough one. Ramsay was silent, but he wasn’t quiet. He’d sneak in, bar the door from the inside, and then start slaughtering everyone in sight. Jon never got on with him. He’d been on ok terms with Tormund and thoroughly enjoyed Bronn’s company. But Ramsay? Ramsay was a fucking cunt, through and through. There was no way around it. Ramsay definitely had the balls to go after royalty. Hell, it was probably on his to do list. And worst of all, he also wasn’t on Benny’s payroll. He was a psychopathic raping free-lancer. He got off on ruining beautiful girls. Jon had seen it. Maybe Jon was just as evil for being a bystander, but he wasn’t payed to protect people.

Not until now, at least. And Ramsay? Definitely a suspect for assassin, especially with how beautiful Daenerys was.

Jon was shaken from his thoughts when he heard a male’s voice coming from behind him.

“I see we’re starting our day off quite heatedly.”

Jon adjusted himself in his seat. He was currently sitting two tables away from Daenerys, facing perpendicular. He wore his sunglasses, so that his eyes couldn’t be seen. He sat back and observed the man in front of him.

Dark hair. Medium length. Messy and brushed back with his fingers. A full beard that was kept neat. Dark brown eyes and sun kissed skin. Good looking. Carried himself with charisma. A lady’s man. He wore a tight t-shirt that hugged his physique and wore faded jeans with black boots. Suede? Yes, suede. He had his own pair of sunglasses, ray bans, that he kept rested on his head.

Overall, seemed like decent enough company. Though Jon was interested by the man’s instep. It looked heavier than that of his right. _Gun._ Someone that carried a gun strapped to their leg usually had a blade to match with it. Jon would have to keep a close eye on this man.

Jon had observed enough and decided to absently listen in on their conversation while continuing to survey the area.

He heard Daenerys greet the man fondly and it surprised him to see her act so…pleasant with another human being. It made him think of their conversation in the car. Well, their conversations in general.

Jon had been respectful from the beginning. He knew he had to adhere to the formalities, but he wouldn’t call her “your grace” or “your excellency”. Ma’am would suffice. However, it seemed she had different plans. She had been rude and stuck up when dealing with him. She rebuffed all his niceties and threw a tantrum like a child. Jon had taken it very well from the beginning. His mentor had instilled him patience and tranquility. If you lost your head, you lost the situation. If you lost the situation, you lost your life. It wasn’t until she began kicking his seat that he had temporarily snapped. He didn’t miss the disdain in her eyes when she sat in the backseat of his vehicle. Perhaps the leather wasn’t up to her standard. He understood. She was a princess. She only knew the best of the best. But that did not mean he would tolerate her treating his belongings as her personal vent. In truth, he regretted what he had said to her. Not because of her feelings, but rather he really needed to complete this contract. He couldn’t afford to get fired after the first day. Not when everything was at stake for him.

There was no use in dwelling on the past. He could only move forward. He smiled, thinking about a conversation he had with his mentor.

_That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it Mr. Wick? Moving forward?’ a young Jon asked._

_‘Yeah…at the usual.’ John replied_

_‘The usual?’ Jon asked. He didn’t know what his mentor meant at the time._

_‘You’ll figure it out kid.’_

If Jon was honest, he still didn’t know what John had meant and wasn’t sure if he ever would. Still, he was curious when he’d find out what wasn’t the usual about moving forward.

“Hey. Buddy”

Jon turned to the man. He had completely blanked out the conversation while in his thoughts. However, judging from the furious look on his face it was logical to guess that he knew why Jon was here.

“I’m talking to you” he said.

Jon merely raised an eyebrow at the man, knowing his eyes could not be seen behind his shades, and stood up.

“Daario. Don’t bother with him” Daenerys said coldly. “He doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.”

“Then that’s his fucking problem. I don’t want him here.”

The man called Daario rounded on Jon and stepped towards him in a means of intimidation. To a lesser man, it would’ve worked. Daario’s six foot frame easily towered over Jon’s five foot nine. Unfortunately for Mr. Daario, Jon was not a lesser man. He kept a disinterested gaze on him. Jon really regretted this contract now. He should’ve been home playing with Ghost. Playing some game of some sort. Not here dealing with Daenerys’ insecure boyfriend.

“Daario” she said, grabbing his hand “let’s go. I want to have fun here.”

Daario gave Jon one last scathing glance, which accomplished nothing, before smirking. He turned towards Daenerys and grabbed her by her hips. She gave a squeal in response.

“So. You brought me to lingerie paradise. Picking out an outfit for tonight?”

Daenerys giggled as she brought Daario closer.

“It seems to go against the point of surprise, but you can make up for it by ripping it off of me later” she replied sultrily.

She brought him down for a kiss, making it passionate and long and open.

Jon rolled his eyes at the obvious tactic. She was trying to use PDA as a deterrent. Shame really, all her efforts and she only made the people around them uncomfortable. Jon remained disinterested, his frame stone.

It seemed Daenerys did not share Jon’s talent for observation as she mistook his passiveness for discomfort.

“Are we bothering you, Jon Snow?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and a haughty smirk. Daario leaned in and began to nibble her earlobe.

_Fine. They want to play this game? I can play._

“Not at all ma’am. I find it most cordial that you have found a man to be loving with.”

He noticed her smile become forced. The strain obvious on her face.

“Yes, thank you.”

Jon could tell she did not mean it.

She grabbed Daario’s hand and mumbled something under her breath and moved towards the entrance of the lingerie shop. Jon followed in tow.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

It was Daario that had turned around and noticed. Jon suppressed a snort. If Daenerys had informed him that he was a hired bodyguard then the man did not have the faintest grasp of the definition. Daenerys looked back over her shoulder.

“Following into the store” Jon replied monotonously.

“No, you are not” Daenerys hissed. “Only Daario is coming in. You can wait out here.”

“Oh, but I must insist ma’am” Jon replied mockingly “it is only natural for a bodyguard to guard the body of his client. And a second opinion is valuable for a woman, or so I hear. Although, I regret to inform you that I do not plan on joining in on the activities you two have planned for later today as I have more pressing matters, like keeping you safe ma’am.”

As he neared the end, Jon added a hint of teasing to his tone but still keeping the overall neutrality. He smirked as he added the last bit of keeping her safe. It had the desired effect. Daenerys became red with fury and stormed off down the street, away from the lingerie shop.

Daario looked like he wanted to throttle Jon but was interrupted by said man.

“It seems she has changed her mind on nightwear. Perhaps you should run after her sir. I believe that is the natural course for a boyfriend to take.”

Daario spit at Jon’s feet before turning around and walking hastily towards Daenerys. Jon frowned at the action. He had just polished his shoes.

_I fucking hate this contract._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your boy is almost done with the semester!!! Just one more class in about 8 hours and I'm free until January 20th. I had a lot of writer's block during this chapter. Ok, that's a lie. I was playing Witcher 3...again.
> 
> I don't know why, but the endnotes combined on the last chapter. Weird. I'm new to this site, don't know how to use it well.
> 
> -To SuperArrow1, don't worry mate, I saw your comment on chapter 2. Been so swamped I couldn't properly reply. Hell yes Jon is a gooner. COYG. Your ideas are much appreciated and I have a particular game that will be important in the future, don't you worry.  
> As for who Jon's favorite Arsenal legend is...well, I think it only reasonable for you to find out along with Daenerys.


	4. Daenerys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets a familiar and unwelcome face, given the circumstances.
> 
> Jon, Daenerys and Daario head to the hotel.
> 
> Not how Jon wants his first day to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. The following chapter is graphic. You have been warned.

**Jon**

Truthfully, Daario almost had Jon. He was good looking, charming and he got defensive when another man was around his girlfriend. It was natural. Too natural. Daario followed the handbook of “Overprotective Boyfriend” to a letter. Wrapped an arm around her. Jon wouldn’t have thought twice if Daenerys hadn’t looked surprised.

They kept strolling around town, going in to shops and then strolling around some more. Daario kept at his antics. Jon didn’t know how the man didn’t feel stupid while doing them. It got to the point where either Daario was really committed, or Daario really was an overprotective slash insecure boyfriend.

_An overprotective slash insecure boyfriend that carries a gun strapped to his left leg and more than likely a hidden knife somewhere on his body. Probably strapped near the rear of his jeans._

Still, Jon could respect the commitment. He thought about where to take him out. Not now, obviously, but somewhere secluded. He guessed he could lure him into an alleyway. No, Daario wasn’t that much of an idiot. He hoped. Whatever, it wasn’t a rush. He had the rest of the day to figure out where it could take place. He just had to make sure the princess wasn’t anywhere near when it happened. Then again, perhaps it might be a good decision to do it while she’s near. That way she wouldn’t ask questions when her lover suddenly fell of the map. And…Jon would be lying if a part of him didn’t want to see her soul crushed as he did it. Ok, ok. He was a sick bastard.

Still doesn’t change that he’d like to see that.

Speaking of the princess, it was a good thing that he was semi paying attention to the conversation ahead of him. He might’ve looked foolish if he was caught unaware.

“Do you have any place in mind Jon?”

He looked at her through his dark lenses. No doubt she was struggling to know where to look, his eyes shielded from hers.

“Not really ma’am. I mainly shop on Jermyn” he shrugged. “It’s an all men’s district” he felt the need to clarify.

She stared at him for a few moments before raking her eyes over his entire body. Jon did not miss the way Daario’s jaw visibly tightened. _This guy is committed._

“Your outfit. Is it from there? Jermyn?”

“The shirt is, ma’am. The belt and oxfords are as well. The suit, however, is from Savile Row. It’s only a few blocks northwest of Jermyn, ma’am.”

She nodded as the gave one last glance over before turning to the bearded man beside her.

“Despite being unconditionally annoying you have to admit that he dresses sharply, Daario. Perhaps you can go to this Jermyn and Savile Row one day. Pick yourself a proper outfit.”

Daario smiled at her before kissing her on the forehead for the wonderful idea. Only Jon could see the strain on the man’s face. When Daenerys continued walking, Daario gave a glare over his shoulder. Jon allowed his face to look smug. It seemed that even her lovers had to be under her control.

_What a life. You get to sleep with royalty but you’re never really on that level._

They kept walking. The job was grating but Jon would keep her alive. He didn’t care who got in his way. He’d kill them. He’d kill them all. His heart was the reward.

**Hidden Warehouse**

He was tired. He had spent the entire training with the gun. The standardized pistol had been shaky at first, but he had grown accustom to it. He still remembered shooting the P30L a few months ago. Was it a few months ago? It felt like a lifetime. He had only hit 4 out of 10 glass bottles in the distance. His mood had become depressing because the video games made it seem so easy.

His brother, on the other hand, had been so proud. People always told him that his brother was bad company, but his brother always smiled when he was around him. They were always happy together. Him, his brother and his sister. They were all close.

He was startled by the banging on the door to his room. His room was smaller than the one he was usually accustomed to. The one at his house in Cambridge. Or rather, the castle in Cambridge. He sighed as he got up to open the door.

The redheaded man was there. He was the only one that ever visited him. Well, him and another man that had a nice hair and nice smile. But the nice man only visited him once a few times. The nice man’s name was…Benny…he thought. He couldn’t remember. They never said their names. Only to talk. He had only caught it when he heard the nice man and the redhead talking outside his room.

“Time to train” the redheaded man said gruffly.

He looked up wearily.

“But I already did train. I hit 9 out of 10 shots”

The man snorted.

“You don’t just shoot boy. You fight. Get ready and meet me down in the training room. We’re going to train hand to hand and if you aren’t fucking there in 5 minutes, then I’m going to smack the shit out of you boy. And after we’re done, you’re going to practice shooting again until you hit all 10 bottles.”

The man then slammed the door and left without another word. The boy then held back tears as he put on training pants to head down to the training room.

Rickon hated it here.

**Jon**

The day kept being rather uneventful, if Jon was being honest. They had been walking for the entire day and Daenerys hadn’t bought a single thing. Jon was starting to realize why men hated shopping sprees. It wasn’t even a shopping spree and Jon wanted to fling himself from The London Bridge into the Thames.

Finally, the princess decided she was tired and hungry. The sun was going down and it was their first break. His stomach was eating itself inside and his ward was currently smiling as if it was usually to only have a meal a day. Considering her figure, he wouldn’t put it past her to follow those stupid diets. If there was one thing Jon hated, it was being hungry.

They stopped by an Italian restaurant nearby. Luckily it wasn’t by reservation, so they didn’t have to wait long to be seated. The hostess approached them with three menus.

“Table for three, right?”

Daenerys made a face but seemed resigned. _Good, she’s catching on._ She sighed as she nodded and asked for a table. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Jon had other plans.

“Actually” he said. All three people turned to him “I think I’m going to leave these two alone for the night. I’ll sit by the bar.”

Now, it seemed strange for an Italian restaurant to have a bar. As far as Jon was concerned, only the American style Italian restaurants had that commodity. It was still a welcome surprise. Now, Jon wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t leaving Daenerys and Daario alone because he felt bad and wanted to give them space alone. No, he was still onto the bearded man and was ninety percent confident that Daario was his suspect. He merely needed time away from them for the day. Call him weak, but day 1 and he felt a headache. A belly full of food and alcohol would solve the problem.

He saw Daario’s face light up while Daenerys frowned at him. Her face confused him as he was sure she’d be grateful to be free of his presence. Even if it was only for a moment. Jon mentally shrugged, finding no use on dwelling on the matter. He had a date with good late night bar food and beer.

He sat at the edge of the bar, the angle where he could keep an eye on Daario. He had already taken off his shades when they had walked in, but it wasn’t like he had to be careful about spying.

“What will it be, mate?”

Jon looked over at the bartender. He read his nametag: Grenn. Grenn had a round face with dirty blonde hair and a beard to match. He was tall and stocky. A hardass but Jon could see the warmth in the man’s eyes.

“Just some spaghetti and meatballs for me, friend. And a pint of Carling.”

Grenn nodded and gave the order to the chef in the back before heading over to the beer tap. Jon returned his gaze towards the couple a few tables ahead of him, they seemed to be in good conversation. Daenerys laughed at whatever Daario had said. Daario had mirth and joy written all over his face. Jon smirked, he didn’t buy it for a second. No, he was now almost one hundred percent confident that Daario was his suspect.

Grenn placed the pint in front of him and Jon grabbed it. He brought the cup of to his lips and took the faintest of sips before his entire night came crashing down on him.

“Jon fookin’ Snow”

_No._

Jon’s eyes widened as he felt a clapped hand on his back.

_It’s not who I think it is. Daario is still the suspect. It’s NOT who I think it is._

But as Jon turned his head, all hope he had left in his body had left him. Crooked nose. Slicked back black hair. Shit eating grin on his face. Blue eyes. Fucking Bronn.

“Out here having a pint, lad? Don’t mind if I join you?”

Bronn sat next to Jon, telling Grenn that he’d have the same thing as Jon. Jon was still frozen in place, his pint still to his lips. Bronn must have noticed Jon’s turbulent look as he looked genuinely intrigued.

“What is it? Don’t want an old fossil for a round of drink?” Bronn frowned.

Bronn’s appearance in the restaurant had completely thrown a wrench in all of Jon’s assumptions. Jon desperately tried to look for possible scenarios as to why Bronn was here. Jon clung desperately onto the idea that Daario was his suspect. Was it so farfetched to think that Bronn, one of the only assassins from The Continental capable and crazy enough to kill royalty, just so happened to be at the very restaurant that Jon was currently in? A restaurant that also happened to be where his ward was seated just a few tables ahead? Was it so outlandish to think it a coincidence?

_Yes_

Jon closed his eyes and cleared his mind. There was no use in being anxious. Bronn was now fifty percent likely to be his suspect. Daario’s chances had dropped to the same. He set his pint down and turned towards the bartender.

“Grenn, mate, sorry about that. I forgot that I’m still working today. I’ll take a glass of soda. Coke. Cherry.”

Grenn frowned at that.

“You sure mate? It’s already late in the day. What could be keeping you?”

“Late night, that’s all. They come and go, you know how it is. I’ll still pay for that pint there.”

Grenn nodded and took the beverage from Jon. Making his way to the soda machine to fill up a glass.

Jon turned towards the assassin next to him. Bronn’s frown had deepened.

“Jon” he said “I’m offended mate. You saying were not on niceties anymore?”

“I’m working” Jon retorted. Jon’s eyes flickered towards Daenerys.

That was a mistake.

Jon quickly averted his eyes back towards the man beside him, but Bronn had followed his eyes and had taken notice of her along with Daario.

Bronn glanced back at Jon and lowered his voice.

“Don’t fookin’ tell me you’re here on contract for the princess?”

Bronn took another glance at the pair.

“…Or, are you here to take out the cunt next to her? I wouldn’t worry about him for much longer. I take he won’t be a problem for much longer”

Jon felt his stomach drop at that sentence. Bronn was now one hundred percent his suspect. Bronn quickly started laughing again and downed his carling in one swig. He clapped Jon on the shoulder.

“What with the long face? Tell me, are you really so cross with me that you deny a drink with an old fuck like me? Come on lad, lighten up. Your worries should be gone after tonight. Oh, hang on. I think that cunt is heading over here.”

Sure enough, Daario was making his way towards the both of them. He looked at Bronn strangely before turning towards Jon with a warm and grateful smile.

“Hey” Daario said to Jon “I…I just want to apologize, you know. For being a complete tool earlier today.”

His words hurt. It hurt that Jon was completely wrong in his assumptions. Jon gave a strained smile.

“Think nothing of it. Perhaps I’d have done the same in your place.”

Daario nodded and made way to turn. Jon held his breath in, embarrassed and angry at being wrong. He was glad the short, but daunting, conversation was now over. Until Bronn stopped.

“So, what? You don’t see me here then? I’d at least wager you would’ve said hello. Plenty rude to stare at a man and pretend he isn’t here.”

Jon mentally cursed Bronn for ruining Daario’s escape. Daario’s darkened face showed that he was not amused with Bronn, but neither was Bronn amused with Daario.

“Listen here, you old man” Daario started. Bronn merely gave an ‘ah’ at his statement, “why don’t you continue to drown yourself in that pint, you sot”

Jon gazed at Bronn. Bronn gave a small chuckle before inclining his head, facing up towards Daario.

“What an ugly thing to say mate. Almost as ugly as the fookin beating I’ll give you if you don’t apologize this instant.”

“You think I’m scared of you” Daario asked humorously.

“No” Bronn said “but you should be you cockless cunt. Oh my, perhaps I should take up poetry”

“You fuck” Daario growled, but he didn’t get to finish as Grenn had interrupted them.

“Listen boys, if you can’t set your differences aside then I’ll have to ask both of you to leave. It’s late and I don’t need this shite right now.”

“No worries mate, I’ll just sit here and mind me own business. As long as this cunt apologized for his lack of manners.”

Daario looked incredulously, but Grenn seemed to think it was a reasonable compromise. So, Daario had no choice but to swallow his pride and apologize to the scalawag seated patiently.

Jon sighed as Daario made his way towards another man sitting at the bar. They began speaking Arabic. Jon chose to ignore the conversation as he couldn’t understand Arabic for a damn. Instead, he rounded on Bronn.

“Was that necessary?”

Bronn simply looked at him as he downed another pint. Bronn’s food had finally arrived and he had started to tuck a napkin into the collar of his shirt.

“Aye, it was. Nothing more I hate than cunts without manners.”

“You going to call him a cunt all day” Jon asked.

“Am I wrong in my analysis?”

Jon shook his head and simply ate his meal in silence. They didn’t speak for the remainder of the night. Both men seemed tense and on edge. Jon hoped the man drunk himself to shit. He needed every advantage later tonight. Bronn was deadly. Silent and never had he been caught. Jon recalled all the times they had shared a drink. Bronn was also one of the few people whose company he enjoyed. All the stories and jokes they had shared. Jon had considered him a friend.

Not tonight. In their area of work, there were no friends. Only business. Bronn was here to kill Daenerys Targaryen. And Jon would put a bullet in his brain.

_Later that night_

They had finally left the restaurant. Daario had become far more ambitious on his advances. Daenerys equally reciprocated those advances, but she seemed to be staring at Jon far more often. He couldn’t blame her. Jon must have looked frantic as he kept moving his eyes left and right. He had lost Bronn when the man had left ten minutes earlier than they had. Jon had wanted to follow him, but he wasn’t sure if the man was working alone tonight.

“Jon” she said, silently pushing Daario off of her “are you alright?”

Jon fixed his grey eyes onto hers. She looked worried, no doubt unsettled at his unusual demeanor.

“I’m fine” he replied, “would feel a lot better behind walls.”

She nodded at his response.

“We’re heading to a hotel. Me and Daario. Are…you coming as well?”

Jon wanted to protest. The last thing he needed was hearing them fucking as he worried about a proficient assassin for the night. Earlier, he would have had no problem. Sex was a need as far as he was aware of. Jon was no stranger to the concept. His thoughts still drifted to a Spanish lover he once had. Anyways, it didn’t matter. Then again, earlier he had pegged Daario for the assassin and was almost to a consensus on where to dispose him. That was before Bronn had shot up to the top of his suspect list. He fit every criteria.

He wasn’t from the same origin of The Son of the Harpy. He was the same race as Daenerys. And being at the same restaurant was out of the ordinary. Jon sighed. He really wanted to take Daenerys back to the palace. She’d be safe with the countless guards and Bronn would be hesitant to attack. If he did, he’d have to go through the best the crown had to offer. Still, he had made an agreement with Rhaegar. His sister could go wherever she pleased without curfew as long as Jon tailed. He had no choice but to agree.

“Yes ma’am, naturally. Though, I won’t be guarding the door ma’am. You and Daario can enjoy the night. I’ll be busy surveying the hallways.”

Both Daenerys and Daario seemed relieved. Though, he suspected the latter was glad that Jon wouldn’t be in proximity as the night ended. Daenerys, on the other hand, looked relieved as soon as Jon had agreed that he’d be tagging along. More than likely that Jon wouldn’t try to stop her pleasures for the night, Jon assumed.

Jon found no harm in letting Daenerys ride with Daario. He could follow at a safe distance.

_A few minutes later_

The drive hadn’t been long. They ended up staying at Claridge’s, a hotel near Oxford street. They seemed to already have a room rented as Daario immediately picked up the key to the room without delay.

They took the elevator to the fourth floor. Daenerys fidgeted with her skirt, and if Jon could dare say then he’d suspect that Daario looked anxious as well. His sexual bravado had long disappeared.

Daenerys and Daario made their way towards room 407, Daenerys shooting one last look over her shoulder at Jon as Daario closed the door. Jon didn’t see it as he was too focused on the oncoming fight that would most likely ensue. Jon cursed Bronn’s tolerance. The man had probably downed the entire tap’s worth of Carling and had walked off as if he had only consumed water.

Jon wasn’t going to enjoy this fight.

Jon made his way towards the end of the hallway. He knew that hotels of this caliber had a surveillance room in each floor. The hotel was simply far too big for one man to keep watch on every floor. It took multiple monitors in various angles for a floor alone. Jon could only imagine having to be in charge of the entire building.

He found what he was looking for. A door at the end of the hallways with the words “Surveillance” embossed at the top. His plan was simple: Knock on the door and knockout the guard as it was opened. He didn’t want to kill them, he only needed access to see where Bronn would come from. Then he’d be ready.

It seemed that things would not go to plan today. As soon as the door to the room was opened, he was met with a jab to left socket. It was only on Jon’s instinct to lean back that he avoided being knocked out. Still, it would leave one hell of a black eye.

He fell back towards the wall but managed to balance himself. He came face to face with a man with dark skin and black hair. Jon couldn’t help but feel he had seen him somewhere before.

The man pulled out a Counter Tac 1 knife and immediately lunged at Jon, knife in his left hand.

_I can think about it later._

Jon sidestepped the lunge and pushed the hand away from him. He followed with a short, left jab to the man’s abdomen, getting a grunt in response. Jon followed up by giving a short, right jab to the man’s spine. Jon knew how much those blows in that particular area could hurt. The man gasped in pain as Jon quickly hooked an arm around the knife hand, twisting to hear pop. His opponent had no choice but to drop the knife on the ground. The fight was decided then and there. All it took was a sweep under the man’s leg to force both of them onto the ground. From there, Jon simply hooked one of his legs to keep the man still as he reached for the Counter Tac on the ground. From there, it was self-explanatory really. He leaned off a bit, so the man could sit up before leaning forward again, placing a hand over the man’s mouth as he drove the knife into the man’s socket and into his brain. The man fell lifelessly on the ground and Jon pushed himself off to lean against the wall. He looked up into the surveillance room and saw the security guard sitting still with his head leaning on the keyboard.

_Dead most likely_

He stood up and dragged the man into the surveillance room. He couldn’t really leave him out in the open, even if there were blood stains now on the carpet floor of the hallway. He set the man down and stared at his face. How in the hell had he gotten it wrong, not once but twice? First, he was wrong about Daario and now about Bronn. Jon mentally berated himself, how could he be wrong? He took another look at the man’s face and froze.

_Oh…shit._

Jon quickly got up and ran down the hallway, not caring about closing the door. He had seen the man earlier. At the restaurant with Bronn. The man was the same one that Daario was speaking Arabic with.

Jon had been wrong only to be right all along.

Daario fit the criteria once again.

Not from the middle east. White. And carries a hidden gun, most likely a hidden knife and conveniently speaks the Arabic.

This just wasn’t his day. He just hoped that it wasn’t too late.

**Daenerys**

She didn’t know why, but Daenerys had felt nothing but anxiety when Jon Daario had closed the door.

She had felt it during the restaurant. She snuck glances towards Jon. At first, he seemed calm. And then she had seen him freeze when another man had come by and sat with him. In the short while she had known him, not once was Jon Snow taken off guard. Yet, here she saw the little color he had leave his face. She saw the way he awkwardly kept his pint of beer stilled at his lips. She had then ignored it as soon as Daario began speaking lovingly to her over dinner. Despite Jon Snow tagging along with them, she had been having a lovely time with Daario Naharis.

They had only known each other for a span of two weeks but had been on plenty of dates. Daario had teasingly propositioned her plenty of times, but she had rebuffed him on each one.

It wasn’t until today that she had finally decided that she would give into not only his desires but hers as well. Yes, she had been craving the man for the entirety of the two weeks they had known each other. She felt she deserved the reward. This had been the first time she hadn’t slept with a man after the first night. Then again, those were only nights for pleasure. Daario was the first man in a long time that she could see herself dating. She had planned on giving up one night stands, so naturally she was not impressed with Daario’s advances. But, he had asked her to countless dates and persisted. Daenerys loved persistent men.

The night kept going smoothly until Daario stood up and made his way towards Jon. She couldn’t hear the conversation, but she could see the stress on Jon’s face. He didn’t speak much, as expected, but she saw his face tighten as soon as she saw the man, sitting next to him, speak. He got in an argument with Daario and she could see the air become tense around them. It took the bartender to break up the fight, no doubt threatening to throw them out. If that had happened, then Daenerys would be completely done with Daario. She couldn’t finish the night eating alone, that would be humiliating. That meant she would have to leave the restaurant with Daario, which was also humiliating but not as much as eating alone.

Though, she supposed she could finish the night eating with Jon. She quickly laughed that thought away. Not only did she completely loathe his company, but what would the people say?

“Daenerys Targaryen visits Italian restaurant with lover boy only to replace him with attractive robot bodyguard after lover boy is kicked out”

That would be a nightmare for her image. She didn’t realize that she called him attractive yet again. Although if she had, she wouldn’t refute herself. There was no use denying facts. Jon Snow was attractive. His face, his neat beard. His eyes. God, those grey eyes were captivating. His voice. Even his smell. She still had it fresh in her memory. Shame really, that he was a complete and utter bore. One night stand material. Not husband material. She shuddered at thought of spending a lifetime with Jon Snow.

Luckily, the tension between Daario and the man was relieved and he went over to talk to a dark-skinned man on the other side of the bar. She skimmed her eyes back over to Jon and the man and saw Jon exchange a few words with him. He took a drink from his glass of soda. Wait a minute. Soda? Wasn’t he drinking beer? Why did he change his drink?

Daenerys’ eyes narrowed. If there was one thing Daenerys prided herself in, it was being a people person. From a young room she could feel the vibe of a conversation and sway it in her favor. But Jon Snow technically was the first person she couldn’t persuade. Well, apart from her mother. But that was besides the point. She knew people. She knew men. And men loved their alcohol. So, for her to see a man switch his beer for a soft drink was completely foreign to Daenerys. She didn’t know why, but she kept her eyes on Jon Snow for the rest of the night and lied to herself that it was mainly due to the unusualness he had just done. Everything about Jon Snow was unusual. She kept her eyes on him, even when he stopped talking to the man beside him and focused on eating his meal.

Not once did he look at her.

Daario had finished paying for their meal and had taken her by the arm to leave. She noticed Jon get up from his seat to hold the door open for them as they left. He still had that anxious look on his face. But it wasn’t until she saw him frantically looking in every direction, almost expecting someone that fear began to creep into her body. It was then that she remembered why he was here. Someone was trying to kill her. And that person was most likely in the same area as her only a few moments ago. The man that was seated next to him had left a few moments before them. And he was also the reason why Jon had began acting strangely.

As the anxiety filled her body, she asked her bodyguard if he was alright. When he had nodded in response, she felt easier. But not fully. When she had told him where she was planning to go, her mind desperately hoped he would insist on taking her home. She was afraid. But he didn’t, he simply agreed.

And Daenerys’ pride would not let her change her mind.

_At the hotel_

Once again, Daenerys could feel her nerves wracking in her body. The unease building up, even when the three of them were alone in the elevator on their way to the fourth floor.

She could see Jon watching her from the corner of her eye. As the doors opened to the fourth floor, Daario took point and led her to their room. Jon kept a steady pace behind her.

Finally, it was time for them to part. Daario held the door open for her and she gave one last look at Jon. She wanted to see grey eyes in reassurance. But he never looked at her. He looked down both hallways in anticipation, as if waiting for someone to pop out any moment. She noticed that he kept his hand positioned behind himself where his trousers were. She was no fool, she knew from the guards around the palace that they kept their pistols there. Once again, fear had settled in her body. And as Daario closed the door, she could only pray that Jon would protect her.

“So” Daario smiled “alone at last.”

Daenerys could only nod her response, not being able to find the words.

Daario closed the gap between them and took her lips with his own. She gladly reciprocated the response, fully intent on forgetting her worries for the night.

Their kisses had become hungrier as they went on, he lifted her by her waist and threw both of them on the bed. For some reason, it didn’t feel right.

As his hands roamed more of her body, her apprehension only grew. She should’ve felt something by now. She should’ve been slick. Yet all she could think about was the impending danger she could possibly face tonight. And how her life would end should the man get through Jon.

When Daario’s hand had slid into her skirt and to her core, that was the moment she had snapped. She pushed him away and huddled herself to the headboard. She brought her knees to her chest and only stared into Daario’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t do it” she said.

She buried her head into her arms as she tried to calm herself. She desperately tried not to think of all the possible ways the man from the bar could kill her.

She was brought out of her own thoughts when she heard silent laughter.

Daenerys whipped her head up to see Daario having the time of his life. He kept laughing into it died into a chuckle. He was met with one of her fiercest glares.

Still, the smile did not die from his face.

“Oh” he said, remnants of laughter still within his voice “you are a tough one.”

Daenerys’ glare only intensified.

“You’ve had me chasing you like some fool.”

“I’m leaving” she said coldly.

As she made her way up from the bed, he placed a firm hand on her stomach and forced her back down.

“No” he said menacingly “you’re not. I must admit, when they told me you were my target. Well, I almost didn’t take it.”

Daenerys eyes widened, a wave of fear hitting her at full force.

“What do you mean” she asked weakly.

“Oh, sweetheart. You didn’t think anyone would actually put up with a bitch this long without wanting something in return, did you?”

He smiled cruelly down at her.

Suddenly they heard a loud noise and they both turned their heads toward the door. Daenerys had hoped it was anyone coming to rescue her. She prayed that Jon had figured it out and would come.

She knew that she couldn’t just sit their and wait for her death. She had to try something. She opened her mouth to prepare the loudest cry for help she could muster, but Daario was much quicker than her.

He forced her head back against the headboard as his hand clamped shut around her mouth. Tears spilled from her eyes. Her screams were muffled as she kicked. Hoping for any chance to run towards the door so they could hear her. So, Jon could come and save her. She was convinced Daario was sent to torment her as cruelly as possible, because his words shattered every thought of hope in her.

“He’s not coming to save you” he said softly. His smile was still in place. “That loud noise you just heard? That’s your little bodyguard more than likely dead.”

Her eyes widened. Her tears coming in full waves. Her muffled cries only became more desperate. She hated it. She hated feeling weak. She hated that her weakness only fueled her killer’s amusement.

“Yes, I didn’t come alone. As soon as I found out you had protection, I knew he had to be dealt with. I planned it all out. Did you know that I’ve been reserving a room in this hotel for a week? Do you know how much money I’ve practically wasted? Heh, whatever. It doesn’t matter. I have you now. Right where I want you. And you’re not going anywhere. Still, it’d be a shame to kill you before we had any fun.”

He reached into her crop top and caressed her breast. Her nipples betraying her desperate thoughts as they became hard against his touch.

“Atta girl. I knew I wasn’t the only one that wanted this” he smirked.

Her muffled cries became sobs. She shut her eyes tight as she didn’t want to see her body being defiled. Faint hope of desperation for anybody to come and save her.

**SLAM**

Daario’s hand was pulled away as Daenerys’ eyes opened. They both looked towards the door to see Jon standing there.

The skin around his left eye was an angry red. Yet, his eyes themselves looked cold and deadly. Daario looked on in anger at him whereas Daenerys took an odd solace.

Daario reached for his left leg, Jon charging at him as he did so. Daario pulled out a small pistol that he aimed at Jon’s head. Luckily, her bodyguard was faster as he knocked the gun out of Daario’s hand before the latter man could pull the trigger.

Daenerys observed in fear as both men struggled with each other for control. Daario was taller, so he had a natural strength advantage over Jon. She whimpered with tears in her eyes as she saw Daario pin Jon against the wall. She desperately needed to see him safe. She needed him to win. Her life depended on it.

She felt the air in her lungs become trapped as his cold gazed fell on her. She knew she should take the opportunity to run, but she was frozen to the spot. Jon Snow kept being unusual as his eyes softened as he stared back at her.

“Look away” he said softly in his gruff northern accent.

She did respond. Her body still paralyzed against her own volition.

“Daenerys” he said louder.

This time, her body had snapped out of its trance. She brought her knees to her chest as she clutched her chest.

“Don’t look” he said, his soft voice returning.

Daenerys then closed her eyes as she laid down in a fetal position. She sobbed silently as she heard the noises next to her.

Flesh meeting flesh. She heard something small hit the floor. Then more flesh meeting flesh. Then grunts of pain. She couldn’t concentrate on whose they belonged to. Then she heard a loud tumble to the ground, as if both had fallen. Then, a loud grunt of pain. And finally, a noise that would haunt her for a while. She heard a snap and the room became quiet. Only her sobs penetrated the air.

She felt a strong hand on her shoulder and she instinctively shied away. Her eyes shut tight as tears leaked through them.

“Daenerys”

Her heart jumped. She opened her beautiful violet eyes and met soft grey ones.

**Jon**

He finally made his way towards the room they had rented for the night. Room 407.

Jon was pissed from being completely wrong the entire day. He was pissed that Daario had somehow managed to get the better of him. No, he didn’t get the better of him. Bronn had completely set him off, throwing off his sound judgment.

Jon kicked down the door, not caring who else heard. Most likely no one would come out to check. People usually assumed someone else would take care of it. He came face to face with Daario hovering over Daenerys; Daenerys’s eyes filled with tears. No doubt she had been made aware of who was after her. His gaze only lingered on her for a millisecond before finding his rage on Daario. The man matched his stare with fire of his own.

All Jon saw was Daario reach for his left leg and he bolted at him. Daario managed to pull out a mini pistol, a Glock 26 it looked like.

Jon was quicker. He quickly grasped the man’s wrist with his right hand as he jabbed with his left fist to punch the gun out. After that, Daario decided to use his superior strength to push Jon up against the wall opposite where Daenerys lay. Daario was stronger but not by much. Jon was strong enough to where he could use the wall behind him as support to hold Daario’s hands back. They struggled for a bit before his eyes fell upon Daenerys.

Maybe it was the desperate hope in her eyes, the tears still streaming down her face but Jon felt…sorry for her. That wasn’t something Jon every thought he’d feel in the day he had known Daenerys Targaryen. Jon knew that what she experienced thus far would scar her mind enough. She would become paranoid and not trust anyone. Jon didn’t see a need to add to her torment. So, he told her to look away. His voice became soft. It was the voice he used when he spoke with Rickon and Arya.

She didn’t hear him. So, he tried again.

“Daenerys” he said firmer.

That finally got her attention. She brought her knees and hands to her chest.

“Don’t look” he said softly.

And she didn’t. She turned away from him and his pity for her only rose as he heard her silent sobs.

Jon focused his attention back on the man in front of him. Daario clenched his jaw as he tried to exert more force on his hands in hopes of ringing them around Jon’s neck. Jon simply brought his right knee up towards Daario’s left hip and pushed the man off. Daario’s breaths became ragged as he reached behind his jeans to pull out the hidden knife that Jon suspected he had. It was the same Counter Tac knife that his accomplice had. Though, Daario wielded his differently. A reverse handed grip.

In turn, Jon reached for the hidden blade he kept on his hip, right about the beltline. It was a small automatic knife. It was a Microtech, a Marfione Combat Troodon. In an all black Continental custom finish. Jon had his H&K gun strapped behind his trousers still, but he didn’t want to make much noise. It was one thing to hear a few tumbling from another room. People would dismiss it as…other activities. But gunfire? That would be heard by the entire building. That’s the last thing he needed. He pushed the button on the side of the knife and the blade shot out. Jon took a saber grip and slowly circled his opponent.

Daario lunged, and Jon blocked. Jon lunged, and Daario blocked. Daario lunged again, and Jon blocked. Jon lunged again, and Daario blocked but reeled back as he bit back a hiss. Jon had managed to graze him with his knife.

_He’s not as fast as me. It’s over._

Daario seemed to comprehend the scenario he was in as he lunged twice. Jon blocked both shots and gave a left jab to his face. Daario grunted. Daario swung wildly with his knife hand, which was intercepted by Jon’s free. Jon hit Daario’s wrist with the handle of his knife, and Daario’s Counter Tac fell to the floor. Jon followed by giving another left jab to Daario’s face. Daario grunted but Jon wouldn’t let him back away. Jon then performed the same maneuver he had done earlier, he swept Daario under with his right leg and fell on top. Jon positioned his knife over Daario’s heart and made to drive it in. Daario managed to grasp at Jon’s knife hand and pushed back with desperation. Jon used his entire body weight to drive the knife in, but it seemed the Daario was hit with a last wave of strength. Daario clenched his teeth as he desperately pushed Jon back. They stayed this way for seconds until Jon swung his left fist above his head and brought it down as a makeshift hammer on his knife hand. Daario gave an audible groan of pain. Jon knew in the struggle that the knife had moved and missed his heart. However, it hit the lung above it as blood started to pool in excess in Daario’s mouth.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Jon brought his right forearm onto Daario’s neck and pushed down. Jon used his left forearm for added support as he squeezed the life out of Daario’s neck.

Daario looked up in anger as he desperately clawed at Jon’s arms, trying to pry them off. Jon simply have Daario a bored and empty stare. The words behind his stare were clear.

_Was this it? Was this all you could do?_

Daario became even more enraged as he gurgled the blood in his mouth. Jon grew impatient and positioned his left forearm at an angle that encircled Daario’s head.

_Crack_

With a twist of his body, he had snapped his opponent’s neck and ended the fight then and there.

Jon stared as Daario’s eyes became glassy and lifeless. He made no sound, comprehending nothing. Not even the silent sobs that wracked from Daenerys’ mouth. He pulled his knife from Daario’s corpse, and wiped the blade clean on the dead man’s clothes before returning it back to his hip.

It was then that Jon remembered Daenerys.

He stood up and walked over towards her. His heart wrenched at the sight of her. She clutched a pillow tight to her body and she tried to muffle her sobs. He could see tears leaking from her tightly shut eyes. He reached for her shoulder, but she shied away in agony as his hand made contact.

Jon couldn’t describe the feeling inside him. He had seen this site so many times. How many men and women had cried in desperation, pleading for their life before Jon ended them? He supposed it was different. There was a sort of connection with someone you were supposed to protect.

“Daenerys” he said softly.

Her eyes opened. He looked down at her sadly, her beautiful violet eyes red and tear rimmed. Her nose pink and lips plump.

“Daenerys” he said again “come on, ma’am. Let me take you home.”

He offered his hand to her, but she lunged at him, clutching him with her arms as she sobbed uncontrollably into his jacket.

He looked down sadly at her crying figure. Not knowing how to make her pain go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm going to be honest with you. I can't figure this site out for shit. The end notes to chapter one have combined with chapter 3. If I'm correct, they'll combine with this chapter. If they combine with this chapter, I'm straight up going old school and adding notes to each document the old fashioned way.
> 
> Ages:  
> Jon: 24  
> Daenerys: 23  
> Rickon: 15 in Jon's memories. (16 Now)  
> Daario: 26 (I know he's much older than Daenerys in the books and I think the show as well. But for the sake of this story, he's close in age. Or, was close in age.


	5. I'm Proud of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath of the hotel fight.  
> Jon meets more royalty.  
> There is happiness in Jon's world.  
> Jon receives unwelcome news.

**Jon**

He had just led Daenerys into the elevator after letting her cry her eyes out for the better part of five minutes. He closed the door to the hotel room as carefully as he could, as he had broken the locking mechanism when he had kicked it open. Jon told Daenerys to wait by the elevator as he went to go close the door to the surveillance room, but she seemed set on sticking in close proximity to him. Not that he blamed her, surviving an assassination attempt would surely ruin anybody’s day.

As the elevator opened to the ground floor, Jon wrapped an arm around Daenerys’ shoulder to lead her outside and to his vehicle. She seemed to bury herself deeper into him as they made their way out into the open, craning her head into his chest as he led her away. Jon surveyed every direction before walking towards the parking lot where his Jaguar was parked. He had parked only a few spaces away from Daario, fully expecting this eventful night. Well, maybe it hadn’t turned out exactly the way he planned it. He was confident that Bronn would be his enemy today.

Jon paused. Daenerys snapped her eyes to look up at him before turning her eyes forward. Fear crept into her eyes as she removed Jon’s arm on her shoulder, only to grasp it as she took a safe position behind her bodyguard.

Standing by Daario’s vehicle was none other than Bronn himself, cocky grin in place as he leaned against the vehicle; one arm resting on the hood while the other was tucked inside his pocket.

“You working today, Jon?” Bronn asked. His blue eyes filled with mirth as he observed bodyguard and ward in front of him.

Jon didn’t answer him, he only kept his right arm steady, holding Daenerys back as she clutched onto him. He cursed internally at their position, he would need his right hand as quick as possible in order to reach for his pistol that rested above his trousers. His utmost priority was keeping Daenerys safe, but it would be near impossible if he couldn’t reach his gun in time. He kept eye contact with Bronn as he tried to calmly pry Daenerys off his arm. The princess, however, was not on the same page as she clutched tighter onto him.

Jon clenched his teeth as he ran through all his possible scenarios. He could use the Glock 26 on his left hip, he supposed. They were at close range and it would certainly be a fatal shot. The only problem would be that Jon was at the disadvantage with his weaker hand. Then again, Bronn was also right handed and was leaning against Daario’s vehicle with his right arm. He was also off balance. If Jon played it right, he could pull this off.

“Jon, you know how much I despise disrespectful fooks” he leaned off of the car and pocketed his hand in his other pocket.

_Shit. Advantage gone._

“Jon. Are you working today?”

Jon didn’t have much of a choice but to respond. Not only was he at a disadvantage physically but emotionally to some extent. He had to make sure his ward made it out of the situation alive while also fending off one of the deadliest hitmen in the country.

“Yeah, Bronn. I’m working tonight” he said plainly.

Bronn smiled even further and took a step forward.

He heard Daenerys’ breath hitch as she took another step back and behind him. She finally let go of his arm as she shrunk into herself behind him. Jon mentally applauded her as not only did she give him free range again, but she minimized herself as a target. Jon mirrored Bronn’s step forward, an act of confidence and protection towards his ward.

“Was it a good night?” Bronn asked. They were now less than ten feet apart from each other. Both men stood languidly as they conversed, yet both minds whirled at a mile an hour. Cold grey eyes clashed with mirthful blue. The night seemed to still, the air thickened with tension. Nothing could be heard but the wind and Daenerys’ fearful breaths.

“Just starting, I think” he replied.

Bronn laughed at that. Jon felt Daenerys press herself into his back.

_No, step away._

The access to his pistol was limited once again, now that the princess decided to press herself against his back. He looked back at Bronn and angled himself to a position for his left hand to reach the small pistol on his left hip. The small pistol was now looking like his only saving grace in the situation. Another option would be to charge at Bronn. Under ten feet, Jon could definitely disarm Bronn.

_Yeah right. As if._

Jon would rather jump off the Clock Tower than force Bronn into a knife melee. Everyone in The Continental knew that Bronn grew up in the slums of London, where fighting for your life was as important as food or water. How many people had Bronn mugged back then? How many muggers had Bronn defended himself from? Killing was in Bronn’s DNA, just as much as it was in Jon’s. But mugging and shanking? Bronn was the king of that world.

He felt that anxiety begin to take place as his hands shook from the anticipation. Jon’s breaths became silent and shallow. Who would make the first move? Jon kept his eye trained on Bronn, counting the seconds tick by as he stood to attention. Finally, Bronn released a small laugh as he stepped back.

“Be seeing you Jon”

Jon visibly relaxed as he let his shoulders slump, not realizing how tense he held them. However, not once did he stray his eyes from the retreating figure of Bronn. Even when the man had fully disappeared, Jon kept his eyes glued to the last spot sighted for seconds.

It wasn’t until he felt Daenerys’ dainty hand clutch his arm that he turned to acknowledge that he wasn’t alone. He noted that her eyes were tear rimmed and full of fear. Her nose and cheeks dusted red and her lips plump from her earlier crying.

Jon subconsciously offered his hand out to her. Taking her home was his foremost priority. She took it without hesitation, her head bowed as he lead her to his vehicle. He saw no reason to force her to sit in the backseat, it was already dark, she could take the passenger side. As soon as he closed the door behind her, he took out his phone to contact “the cleaners”.

“Hello”

“It’s Jon”

“Yes, again.”

“I need you to do a cleanup for me”

“Claridge’s, on Brook St. It’s room 407. I also need you to clean the security room, I took care of someone, not the security guard, but they’re both dead.”

“I don’t care how you do it.”

“Charge me double, I don’t care, just get it done”

Jon aggressively ended the call and walked towards the driver’s side, but not before sending a text to the IT department of the continental. They were easily his favorite department from the entire organization. They took care of the “paper” trail, could wipe out unneeded information from the grid, and, most importantly, they didn’t waste unneeded time by talking. A simple text would do.

_‘It’s Jon. I need you to erase footage from today on the fourth floor at Claridge’s. It’s a hotel on Brook St.’_

Jon didn’t wait for a response, simply tucked the phone inside the pocket inside his jacket and entered his car. He had just started the ignition when he was broken away from his inner silence.

“Who are you?”

Jon looked over to Daenerys. She had whispered the question and hadn’t been looking at him while doing so. Instead, she opted to look out the window and keep her hands clasped together in her lap. For a while, they both looked in the same direction, her eyes on the lights of the streets, and his eyes on her. He raked his eyes towards her waist, making sure her seatbelt was strapped properly. Once he was satisfied, Jon set the car in reverse and backed out of the space. With adequate turning room, Jon set the car in drive and turned towards his ward.

“Your bodyguard, ma’am.”

And they set off towards Buckingham palace.

**Rhaegar**

After his, rather enlightening, conversation with Arthur, the King had found a newfound curiosity for Jon Snow. Not a few days past, Rhaegar had nothing but reluctance in hiring an assassin. Then he met the man and Rhaegar found some solace in discovering that he was Arthur’s nephew. However, when Arthur revealed Jon Snow’s heritage and his upbringing. The loose and quiet ends, Rhaegar just couldn’t simply sit and wait to find out how a son of the honorable Eddard Stark ended up with an organization of hitmen. Of course, that meant that the satiations to his curiosity were limited. Only few knew of the relation between Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne. One of those people had already rebuffed him until he became closer with his nephew. The other was Eddard Stark himself. Rhaegar considered himself amiable, but he didn’t think that Eddard Stark would open up to him on the topic of his runaway son. The other person would be Catelyn Stark, probably. Then again, maybe not.

The next best option would be to find out as much as possible about Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne. Learning about Eddard was definitely out of the question. None of the man’s family would possibly speak to a stranger and though he could ask Arthur’s opinion, Rhaegar somehow suspected that the opinions would be one-sided in the southern direction.

That left learning about Ashara. Again, Arthur wasn’t an option. Neither was Eddard Stark. He guessed the Dayne’s, but they never much liked him. He didn’t know why. He married a fellow countrywoman in Elia.

Rhaegar perked up. That’s it! Elia. Elia and his mother, Rhaella, knew about Ashara. He could just ask them.

_Rhaegar, you genius. This kingdom is safe with you in charge._

Now. All he needed was a way to bring up the topic of Ashara without rousing suspicion. He spent almost five minutes trying to formulate a great plan, but nothing ever hit his mindscape.

_Huh. Maybe this kingdom isn’t so safe after all._

**Rickon**

He was tired. His body was bruising, and his left eye was swollen. The big red bearded man did not take the training session easy with him. Then again, nothing was ever easy anymore. He woke up early for breakfast and then trained until noon. He had a break for lunch and then an hour to himself in his room. Then it was back to training and he could be done for the day to eat dinner. No dessert. Never dessert. He had to be at his best every day. Always the same.

Rickon let himself collapse onto his bed to stare at the ceiling. It was still early in the night, only a little after seven. He could watch TV before he went to sleep. And by TV, he meant Netflix. They didn’t let him have cable. At first Rickon didn’t know why, but he later assumed that they deprived it of him so he wouldn’t stumble on a local channel and figure out his location. As if he could do anything with that information anyways. They’d catch him within the hour if not within ten minutes. Besides, it wasn’t so bad here. Sure, he was beaten into the ground. But he had food. He had water. His room had heat and he could watch a bit of TV. Some people had it worse. Yes, he used to have a family that loved him. He could freely walk around the grounds of his home and have fun. Sure, he could visit his friends and play video games. But it wasn’t so bad.

Before he knew it, Rickon was sniffling and wiping a lone tear from his cheek.

_It’s not so bad._

**Jon**

When they arrived at the palace, he parked with the passenger’s seat directly facing the double doors. Jon wanted to make sure he had Daenerys inside the palace as soon as possible.

“Wait for me to open the door for you” he said. Satisfied with her nod, Jon slowly exited the driver side and surveyed the area before making his way to the passenger side.

Jon stopped right as his hand grasped the handle, the hairs on his neck standing up. He made eye contact with Daenerys’ confused eyes, through the glass, and held up a hand; a silent order through the air. He turned on his heel to walk towards the doors of the palace and gave a light knock. Jon waited with a side view glance behind him until the doors opened.

His uncle had answered the door.

Arthur’s face brightened as he greeted him.

“Jon” Arthur said before he noticed the serious expression on his nephew’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Jon simply nodded his head in Daenerys’ direction, his uncle adopting a serious expression as he understood.

With haste and caution, Jon made his way towards the passenger seat to help Daenerys out. She looked at him with confusion that soon turned to fear as he held her down into his body, quickly walking her into the doors of the palace. His uncle helped the princess the last few steps as Jon quickly equipped his gun to survey the area around him. He held his gun firmly, his eyes wandering side to side before walking backwards with caution and into the palace. He never noticed his ward run off towards her room with tears in her eyes.

“What happened?” Arthur questioned him as soon as Jon closed the door.

“I’ll tell you later, when you’re free” Jon replied.

“I’m free right now, Jon.”

“Let’s not argue right now Arthur.”

“She’s royalty Jon, she’s my responsibility too.”

“I know, but it can wait.”

“No, it can’t. I need to know what happened. Rhaegar needs to know.”

Jon knew that his uncle was only looking out for Daenerys’ best interests. And he was a royal guard. Possible the most trusted among them to the King. But this contract was between him and Rhaegar. Not Jon and his uncle. If anything, he shouldn’t even be telling Arthur anything later. In reality, if Arthur wanted the information of the day, Arthur should be asking Rhaegar for it. However, because Jon trusted him and the King trusted him, Jon was willing to let his uncle in on the information. But later.

“Uncle” Jon said evenly. His grey eyes meeting violet. If not for the differing hues, one would mistake them as equal. Both eyes filled with intensity. “It really can wait.”

Time stilled between them before the elder between the two relented and allowed his face to soften. A small smile adorning his face as his eyes looked on in nostalgia.

“Yeah, I’ve seen that face before. At least let me take you to Rhaegar.”

Jon nodded and followed his uncle. He could not stop the curiosity bubbling inside him, wonder at what his uncle meant by his words.

Jon admired the ornate walls of the palace. White littered with gold. Jeweled chandeliers with crystal like hangings. It was quite beautiful.

Finally, they made their way towards a bedroom at the end of a hallway. The door magnificent and guarded by a golden haired man.

_Jaime Lannister_

“Ser Jaime” Arthur greeted.

“Ser Arthur” Jaime nodded in return. The golden haired man turned questioning eyes toward him, an eyebrow raising in equal.

“This is Jon” Arthur said, but it only seemed to raise further questions for the man at the door. “He was employed by Rhaegar, Princess Daenerys’ bodyguard.”

Jaime’s initial curiosity seemed to have been sated and was on the brink of asking a question before Arthur abruptly cut him off.

“I’m sorry Jaime, I’m sure you have a few questions but Jon really needs to see the King immediately and I know he’s here currently with Queens Rhaella and Elia.”

Jaime nodded, acquiesced, and opened the door for them to enter.

Arthur led the way and bid for Jon to follow. As they entered, Jon could only marvel at the size of the room. The room seemed to be a wing in itself. He could make out a door, and another door. A hallway as well?

Jon was impressed. Of course, he didn’t let it show.

He simply continued to follow his uncle down the hallway he noticed earlier, and into a door towards the side. _Fuck me, another large room._

A fireplace, a couch, and a table. An entire living room within a bedroom. However, this living room was actually occupied at the moment. There he could see three individuals sitting around the fireplace. He could see a beautiful woman seated in an armchair. Her hair the same unmistakable silver-gold that his ward had. _Rhaella Targaryen._ Dowager and old. Yet, still beautiful.

Sitting on the loveseat couch was the King himself, along with an attractive copper skinned woman. Jon observed her luscious raven black hair and her dress seemed to hang loosely off her figure. Her brown eyes were striking, but warm, and further enhanced by the faded eyeshadow. He believed the look was called…”smokey eye”. Her plump lips were red from the lipstick.

All three individuals turned towards the two men that had just entered. The two women ignored his uncle and instead questioned his presence with their eyes.

“Queens Rhaella and Elia” Arthur said, drawing the attention of both women. “Might I introduce Jon Snow. Princess Daenerys’ bodyguard…” both women looked at him with intrigue “and my nephew.”

Queen Rhaella’s hand rose to stifle a gasp as Queen Elia rose with wide eyes, stepping forward slowly towards him. To say Jon was uncomfortable would be an understatement, but, of course, his training with The Continental didn’t allow his stone face to break. However, he did take a small step backwards as the Spanish born Queen cupped his face with both hands as she marveled at his features. Jon glanced over to Rhaegar and raised an eyebrow in question. The King simply looked at him with a sheepish smile.

“You” he heard Elia say.

Jon snapped his grey eyes to the woman currently holding his face.

“You have her lips” she said softly. “You have her shape too. You’re beautiful…” she breathed out.

Oddly enough, it hadn’t been the first time Jon had been called beautiful or pretty. What was a first was a queen holding his face while doing so. _Not exactly something you prepare for everyday, is it?_

Not knowing what else to do, Jon simply blinked and took a step backwards. Not even physically removing her hands from his face, he simply just stepped away.

Elia’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she mirrored his step backwards and placed her hands on her cheeks, which were now starting to turn red at a rapid rate.

“Oh my goodness” she said, looking away from him and towards the ground, “I’m so sorry. It’s just… you look so much like her.”

Rhaegar stood and placed a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder. Elia looked up at him with teary eyes filled with gratitude and gave him a watery smile. Rhaegar then turned towards Jon.

“Forgive my wife. She was a good friends with your mother. They were nearly inseparable back then.”

Jon nodded.

“Of course. Forgive my inconsideration Queen Elia.”

Said Queen tore away from her husband and looked at him with widened eyes.

“Oh, goodness no. I was the abrupt one. Please, forgive me.”

Found in another awkward situation, Jon decided to take the gentleman route and shook his head.

“There’s nothing to forgive Queen Elia.”

She gave a grateful smile in return.

“Jon” Rhaegar cut in “not that I’m not happy to see you. I am. But...why are you here? Where’s Daenerys?”

If he was being honest, Jon actually forgot about her up until Rhaegar asked. He didn’t even see her after he closed the door to the entrance, now that he thought about it. Luckily, his uncle came in to save the awkward silence. Well, perhaps “save” was completely subjective given what Arthur said next.

“She ran to her room as soon as they got here. She looked to be crying.”

The King’s mother immediately shot up from the armchair with a worried glance as her son and daughter in law looked at Arthur with wide eyes.

“What do you mean” Rhaella asked frantically. She rounded on Jon. “What happened to my daughter?”

Jon simply looked at Rhaella before turning his attention towards Rhaegar. His message wordless but clear. _You want to take this private or know right now?_

Rhaegar seemed to open his mouth to respond, but his mother beat him to the punch.

“She is my daughter, Rhaegar! I deserve the right to know what has happened to her.”

Rhaegar simply gave a weak nod and sighed.

“Go ahead Jon” Rhaegar said “anything you have to say, my mother and wife can know. Arthur can stay as well, he has my full confidence.

Jon could’ve sworn he saw his uncle’s lips curve upward in smugness before his face returned to his usual “on duty” expression. Jon would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly amused.

“Well, everything was going fine at first”

“Then why was she crying?” Rhaella interjected.

“Mother” Rhaegar said “please, let him speak.”

The queen was incensed, but allowed Jon to speak.

“We went to the shopping district on Oxford, and we met up with her boyfriend”

“Hold up. Boyfriend?” Rhaegar asked with narrowed eyes? Elia and Rhaella rolled their eyes in response.

“Honestly Rhaegar” Elia started “you can’t expect your sister to stay single woman forever. Daenerys is beautiful. Men would be stupid not to fight for her.”

“Yes. My Daenerys’ beauty will cause the death of many men” Rhaella said with pride. Elia smiled and nodded in agreement. Arthur shifted his feet uncomfortably. Rhaegar looked at his mother in mortification. Jon simply stood stone faced.

“Ok” Rhaegar said “am I the only one that realizes the severity that these “Sons of the Harpy” pose to us?”

By the bored looks the two women gave him, he was.

“Seriously? I’m the only one?”

“Rhaegar” Rhaella sighed “I understand that the threat was serious and it left you rattled. But they’re thousands of miles away and we’re surrounded by the best bodyguards in Britain. I think you’re overreacting a bit.”

“Yes, darling. You need to understand that we’re royalty Rhaegar, we’ll always be under threat. The only difference is that, this time, they’ve told you that they’re planning on doing it.”

“Oh, and that’s supposed to ease me then. Is that it?”

Elia sighed and shook her head at her husband. Rhaegar grabbed the bridge of his nose before

looking at his wife.

“Fine” Rhaegar started “if nothing happens in the next month. I’ll accept it how it is, and we can go back to how we were.”

As Jon listened to the exchange, he thought about how easy it could be. He could lie now and in one month he could pick up his paycheck and never look back. He could go back to his regular life. And he could get Rickon back. But he quickly shook those thoughts out of his head. A contract was a contract and he would always be truthful, no matter what. Plus, it wasn’t guaranteed that Benny would return Rickon. No, better to play the long game and go through with his plan.

“Then it looks like you’ll be waiting a long time, your grace” Jon said.

All heads turned towards him as they looked with scrupulous eyes.

“We went to a restaurant, nice little place, and ate our food while I watched her dine with her boyfriend from a distance. I won’t lie to you, I suspected her boyfriend from the moment I saw him”

Rhaella’s eyes widened in fear as Rhaegar’s eyes turned to anger, but Jon continued on and didn’t let them interrupt him.

“However, I let myself be thrown off his trail when I suspected someone else. He was someone I knew at a time and I found it precarious that he happened to be at the same restaurant at the same time as us. I was careless and put your sister at risk. Forgive me.”

Rhaegar looked at him with sorrow filled eyes as Rhaella pursed her lips.

“We ended up closing the night by going to a hotel. They rented a room and I was to stand guard. Situations unfolded and I was put on her lover’s trail once again. I managed to save her in the end, but at the cost of her emotional wellbeing. I brought her here as soon as possible.”

Rhaella ran past him and left away from the room. Jon presumed she was on her way to console her daughter. Elia could only hold a hand to her mouth as she processed his words in horror and Rhaegar could only sit down place a hand to his forehead.

“Please, leave me for the night Jon. I’m forever grateful that you protected my sister, but, please, I need time to process this. Arthur, see him out.”

Arthur stared at his King for a second before nodding and motioning for his nephew to follow him.

Uncle and nephew exchanged no words as they retraced their steps towards the double doored entrance. However, Arthur stopped his nephew right before Jon entered his vehicle.

“Jon” he said “I’m proud of you. You saved her Jon.”

Jon simply nodded but it must not have been reassuring as Arthur enveloped Jon with his arms and placed a reassuring hand to the back of Jon’s head.

“I’m proud of you.”

Jon could only return the hug and nodded as they released one another. Jon stayed to watch his Uncle walk back and enter the palace. Both men exchanging one last nod of reassurance before Arthur closed the door to the palace and Jon closed the door to his Jaguar.

Immense pride filled Jon’s body as he drove silently to his flat.

* * *

“Ghost” Jon called as he closed the door behind him. A white blur bounded over to him as he bent down and smiled as he ruffled the fur of his loyal companion.

“I missed you boy” Jon whispered into fluffy ear. “Want to know about my day?”

Ghost jumped up and down as he spun around. Jon grinned.

_I guess that’s a yes._

So, Jon proceeded to tell him of the events. Ghost bared his teeth as he mentioned Daario in his story.

“Yeah” Jon said “he was a complete cunt. Insecure, tried to kill my client too.”

“And” Jon whispered, leaning close into Ghost’s ears “between you and me. My hair was so much better than his.”

Ghost closed his red eyes as he nodded his adorable fluffy head up and down. Jon smiled and rewarded him with a treat. Ghost tackled him, thanking him with licks to his face.

“Okay” Jon laughed “calm down. God, am I the only that brushes his teeth in this house?”

Jon sighed in content as he lied against the wall, watching as Ghost walked silently over to his water bowl.

“You must have been lonely all day without me, huh?”

Ghost whined in response.

“I’m sorry boy. I’ll ask Sam if he can take care of you next time.”

That seemed to please the big ball of fur in front of him.

“By the way” Jon said. “I managed to save a princess today. And I didn’t even get a kiss. Can you believe that Ghost? I’m a fairytale hero. Don’t you think so?”

Ghost simply stared at him with lazy eyes. He shook his head as he returned to drink his water.

_Whatever Ghost. I don’t need your approval anyways._

Jon stood up from the spot where he was currently seated, and went to sit on the couch to turn on the tv and watch some HBO. Jon’s all time favorite movie, _Silence of the Lambs_ , was currently playing. He enjoyed the complexity and the psychology of the film. It was funny to him, growing up he wanted nothing more than to be Clarice Starling. To escape his world and do something in life. If only he could have foreseen himself becoming Hannibal Lecter.

_Buzz_

Jon looked down to his phone and read the new message he had received.

_‘Are we still meeting this weekend?’_

Jon typed a quick message in response.

_‘Yes. Saturday?’ - J_

_‘Why not?’_

Jon simply stared at the three bubbles in the corner, signifying that the messenger was typing another message.

_‘How does 20:00 sound?’_

_‘Fine by me.’ - Jon_

Jon was prepared to let the conversation die, but the inkling of frustration from earlier had built and he couldn’t help himself.

_‘By the way, what the hell was with your partner? I almost lost my client because he threw me off.” -J_

He stared at the white background until the gray bubble appeared once again in the corner.

_‘What do you mean? He was supposed to warn you about Daario Naharis’_

Naharis? So that was his last name. Stupid last name. In Jon’s opinion, anyways.

_‘If that’s what you can call it.’ - J_

_‘Tell me.’_

_‘Saturday’ -J_

_‘Fine’_

Jon sank into the sofa as he watched Clarice’s first meeting with Hannibal Lecter. The hesitance in her eyes as it grew to confidence. If only she knew that she had played into Lecter’s hands the entire time.

_Buzz_

Jon looked down at his phone, not expecting another message for the day.

_‘Congratulations by the way. Or is it apologies? No matter, Sanchez is a quality player. I’m sure he’ll do the Gunners well.’_

Jon stared at the message before he felt dread build up in his stomach. He quickly exited the messages app and launched the Sky Sports App on his phone. A panicked sweat broke on his forehead as he tapped on his team. The dread in his stomach turning to dejection as his he felt bile rise in his throat. He felt utterly sick as he read the headline.

**Arsenal FC not planning on signing another player of Alexis Sanchez’s caliber.**

**“I think we can press on this year and win with the team we have. Maybe sign some talents for the future” - Ivan Gazidis**

The iPhone dropped from Jon’s hand as threw his head back on the headrest of his couch to look at his ceiling.

_Damn you Ivan Gazidis!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate stomach viruses. Along with writer's block. I swear, it was a pain to write this chapter. Plus, I'm currently beefing with my apartment complex. Bank had to step in.
> 
> -Also, hasn't been a good past weeks as a gooner, but I 100% supported Man City a few days ago. Pep Guardiola saving football and Arsene Wenger's Legacy.


	6. Number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon reminisces on a first meeting with a friend and also meets with an acquiantance.
> 
> Daenerys deals with the events of that night and asks important information that she believes she needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deleted the last chapter since it was more of an "update" so to speak. Though, my review of the movie still stands and I added it to the bottom notes since I find it relevant. Beware, it has spoilers for John Wick 3.

**Jon**

It had been a rather quiet week for Jon. Since dropping off Daenerys at the palace the past Monday night, Rhaegar had contacted him to stay put until he was called for again. Therefore, Jon was anxious the entire week wondering if he still had a job or not. Rickon’s rescue depended on it.

Jon wouldn’t dwell on it, though. He spent the week playing with Ghost, eating dinner at his friend Samwell Tarly’s house. Jon always enjoyed visiting Sam and his wife, Gilly, because they embodied everything he had wanted at one point. Jon enjoyed spending time with little Sam, who was Samwell and Gilly’s son. Though, Jon suspected that the boy would rather play with Ghost.

It was very ordinary and almost cliché as to how Jon became familiar with the Tarly’s. Jon was at a pub having a shot of tequila when he heard a commotion besides him. When he turned his head, he saw three men harassing the rather overweight man and his wife as they were having their meal. The three men clearly drunk as they slurred their insults and crude remarks toward the brown haired woman. It wasn’t any of his business, it really wasn’t. If the man was too coward to defend his wife, then he wasn’t a man at all. But… there was unfair odds. Three on one, even if Samwell was about the size of all three in terms of width. But Jon knew the man wasn’t one for confrontations. His timid and curled body language told him as much. It was quite the pathetic sight.

However, one thing led to another and Jon found himself defending the obese man and his wife. Perhaps it was too much to drink or, no…that’s exactly what it was. He didn’t know how much tequila he’d shot down that night, but he did know that he somehow ended up waking on the Tarly’s couch the following morning. According to Sam, Jon had approached the three men after one had made a crude comment towards Gilly.

Jon couldn’t validate their statements as Jon hadn’t remembered much from that night, but apparently the situation was a “sight to see”. The best that Sam could describe it was that Jon had given the three brutes a proper thrashing.

“You were a blur! Your hands parrying shots and throwing a few punches their way. I didn’t think it was possible for someone of your size to flip Rast over their shoulder. Bloke made a right proper mess when he landed on his back. I wouldn’t have believed a human possible to empty their stomach lying down, but there it was! And Karl? Goodness me, I couldn’t believe he actually broke a bottle and proceeded to attempt to stab you with it. You could have died! And all because I was too afraid to defend myself” Sam finished with a sad tone.

Jon only grunted at that. He doubted the idiot came even close to grazing him with the bottle. But surely one of them must have gotten a good hit in. Else he would’ve remembered faintly what had happened.

“Oh, but you handled it expertly. Sidestepped his thrust and proceeded to take grip of his arm. I’d normally never wish broken bones upon anyone but given the circumstances…I’d say you were well within your rights. As for the last bloke, he saw the entire situation and buggered off! A great showing overall.”

Yeah, that sounded reasonable. Though Jon was still confused as to how he’d forgotten the entire ordeal. So, he naturally only asked Sam if anyone else had gotten involved and taken a shot at him. Normally Jon would be aware to his surroundings, but tequila did hazy things to your mind if you took enough shots.

Sam looked anxious at the question and proceeded to look away from Jon as he laughed nervously.

“Actually” he started “that’s the thing. The bartender ordered you leave the establishment immediately and promptly handed you a permanent ban. Sorry mate.”

Jon nodded at that. Not surprising but it wasn’t too big of a deal. It still blew, however. It was the only pub that was close to his living area.

“Anyways…as you stepped out, I called after you to thank you and well…you sort of stumbled as you turned around and tripped over the doorstep. Knocked yourself out cold, mate.”

Jon stared at the man in front of him in silence. Really? That’s how he went out that night? By tripping over a damn doorstep? Damn. What would John say if he knew? Damn. What would _Marcus_ say? He could practically hear the veteran assassin’s jeers in his head already.

Jon shook his head as a massive headache began to thunder inside his skull. Gods, this would be such a terrible hangover.

That’s how he and the Tarly’s had met.

Samwell was a young medical student in training. Gilly was a stay at home mom who had just given birth to their son, Samwell Tarly Junior; also known as “Little Sam”. Two years later, and Samwell was finally a physician. So young yet so intelligent. Fate would also have it that the Tarly’s would move into one of the flats in the same area as Jon. Jon’s flat was the lone singular flat in the complex of buildings, but he preferred it that way. Should anyone come looking for him, it would be better for the noises to be kept to a minimum, though he knew the gunshots would still be heard unless everyone present had a silencer.

It was also lucky that the Tarly’s lived on the first floor of the building closest to Jon. It made dropping of Ghost easy and picking up his boy just as so. Still, he hated leaving his dog alone for a long whiles, but Gilly had assured him that she didn’t mind. Taking care of Ghost meant that Little Sam had the luxury of having a furry friend without having the permanent responsibility of looking after a beast such as a husky.

Jon had barely begun to relax on his friend’s couch before his cellphone vibrated.

He took one look at his cell and bolted. He gave Sam and Gilly an offhand apology that he was called in for “work” and ran towards the garage that was located directly under his flat.

He remembered a conversation he had once with Sam, about his flat not really being a flat. Strictly speaking it was a house as it was on its lonesome. Jon responded that the house had a flat roof, therefore it technically was a flat. Samwell shook his head but that had left the conversation there.

As Jon climbed into his vehicle, he gave another look at the message he had just received.

_‘Change of plans. Meet me right now.’_

Jon wondered what was so important that the meeting had been pushed up. It was supposed to take place the next day.

He quickly banished those thoughts from his head and sped off towards the meeting destination.

-6-

“I do believe our esteemed friend made that drive, in record time. I do believe you owe me a drink.”

That’s what Jon heard as he walked into an abandoned factory on the outskirts of London.

“I didn’t bet anything” was the response.

“Oh, you are a spoilsport. Do you know that, Pod?”

Jon met the two figures with a lazed look. Pod, the younger of the two individuals, was an assassin from the continental. Young but determined. Jon was 4 years his senior and, not tooting his own horn, not as skilled at that particular age. Though, Jon was deemed a natural by his peers. There was nothing that Jon couldn’t accomplish through determination. If he set his mind to it, he would find a way. Fire born of ice. That’s how Jon was described in their little world of large connections.

“Icy Hot”. That’s the name used to taunt him when he was younger. It was a nickname meant to poke fun at him, a Stark with a chip on his shoulder and a hot head. Always jumping into the situation first and dealing with the consequences later. The name was always met with laughter by those around him. So, Jon beat anyone who found it funny within an inch of their life. And though he proved them right, no one called him Icy Hot anymore. People steered clear of him. A freak. That’s what he was. He wasn’t good company. Avoided like the plague.

That’s why Tyrion Lannister sent him to America. To train with Marcus. At least, that was the original plan.

Jon cracked his neck as turned to the other individual in the room. Yes, Pod was the younger of the two but not the smallest. That description belonged to Jon’s contact and the organizer of this meeting.

Tyrion Lannister. The very man that was partly responsible for the man that Jon was today. He also happened to be the son of ruthless politician, Tywin Lannister. And though Tyrion had proven himself his father’s son time and time again, Tywin Lannister held nothing but disdain for his youngest. The reason?

Tyrion Lannister happened to be a dwarf.

A cruel reason to hate a child, but a reason, nonetheless.

“Jon Snow” Tyrion said with a grin. “The Boy Wonder, The bastard of Winterfell. And the protégé to the legend himself, John Wick.”

Jon looked off to the side in annoyance. Tyrion did this every time they met.

“Can we move onto the matter at hand, Lord Lannister?”

Tyrion merely chuckled, looking up at the young man next to him.

“Not one to waste time with words, is he Podrick?”

Podrick only looked down in annoyance at his boss.

“I’m beginning to tire of your antics as well, my lord.”

The dwarf rolled his eyes in response.

“Moving on” Tyrion said.

“Please” Jon and Podrick said simultaneously.

“It’s come to my attention that you are under the service of his majesty himself, Jon. That you have turned from gun for hire into guard for hire. I very much would like to hear this grand story as to how that came to be. Would it be possible that it ties into the reason to why you have found it urgent to meet me?”

Jon turned his cool grey eyes down to him.

“As always, your guesses are highly accurate, dwarf of Lannister.”

Tyrion smiled.

“As to how I came into the services of his royal majesty, it would seem that my services were brokered by another individual.”

Both men had a look of surprise on their face at that statement.

“Oh? And who might have had a hand in that” Tyrion asked him.

“Who else” Jon answered.

“Benny?” Podrick asked.

Jon nodded at him.

“Bennington” Tyrion whispered. He walked away from the two as he began to pace back and forth on his stubby legs. A hand cupping his chin. “My, my. I never once knew Bennington as an individual to help others around him. At least…not without something in return.”

Tyrion looked at Jon expectantly.

“You’re right once more in your analysis” Jon said. “Benny brokered me a deal of 2 million in payment if I guarded Princess Daenerys for a year. Of course, I found that awfully suspicious and tedious. 2 million? I make that with a few good placed contracts in half a year. So, I met with King Rhaegar. And what does he tell me? That Benny is getting 7 million Sterling if I manage to do my job proper.”

Tyrion’s eyes widened at that information.

“7 million? Interesting. Now, what could our dear friend, Bennington, need 7 million Sterling for?”

“That’s what I want you to find out. I want whatever leverage I can possibly get on him.”

Tyrion looked at him with curious eyes but, when Jon simply looked on with steel behind his gaze, he nodded.

“Now” Jon continued “let’s get onto more important matters.”

Jon walked sideways to the two men but began to circle around them. Both men tensed as sweat began to form on their brow after a few seconds of Jon’s silent walking. Podrick’s hand began inching its way towards his gun, but Jon could see the hesitation and resignation on his face if things came to those terms.

“Bronn” Jon stated.

“What about him?” Tyrion asked nervously.

Jon stopped in his step as he stood completely level to both parties, Tyrion hidden away as he stood behind Podrick’s figure.

“He nearly ruined my night. My ward might have died that night and it would have all been Bronn’s fault.”

Tyrion swallowed as he took small steps from behind Podrick in order to give Jon a clear view of him.

“I sent Bronn in order to give you a fair warning of the threat of Daario Naharis. I heard that you had Princess Daenerys under your protection.”

Jon raised an eyebrow as he stared coolly at the small man.

“And how did you know that I had Daenerys Targaryen under my protection? It was only my first day.”

“Let’s just say that Bennington isn’t the only individual with ears everywhere” Tyrion answered.

Jon nodded as he circled in the other direction, not stopping until he was level with both men again. This time, Tyrion Lannister standing closest to him while Podrick towered from behind.

“That’s fair. However, that still doesn’t explain as to why Bronn was a hinderance to me. He was there to help me, or so you say. To warn me. Yet, he acted as nothing but a threat the entire evening.”

Tyrion smiled weakly as he stepped back with a shaky step.

“Perhaps sending Bronn was not the wisest of decisions. However, he was in the area and feared that Podrick would arrive too late. I felt it only a good idea to give you a heads up. If I miscalculated Bronn’s actions and how he sent the message, then forgive me.”

Both men looked at one another. Two men separated by a vast difference in height, but their gazes never wavered from one another.

“Next time” Jon said “let me do _my_ job on my own. I don’t need a heads up. I don’t need your help. I had Daario Naharis in my sights the entire night until Bronn made his presence known. If I need help, _I_ will contact you.”

Tyrion nodded with a slight frown on his face.

Jon turned from both men and walked away.

**Daenerys**

Four days.

That’s how long she had shut herself inside her bedroom. The cream walls acting as a barrier from the outside world. Daenerys stayed huddled on her bed as the time slowly ticked by. She stayed here in this room, safe from any harm that may come her way. She didn’t speak to anyone that passed by her room. She sent the maids away with a glassy look. The guards received no answer when they enquired on her state. Not even her mother managed to pry a single word from her mouth.

Was it pathetic?

She didn’t know. And she didn’t care. She was so close to dying. _So_ very close. What would have happened that night if her bodyguard hadn’t made it in time? What would have happened if he hadn’t been as good as her would be murderer?

_What would have happened if she had no bodyguard whatsoever?_

She chuckled humorlessly at that thought. She supposed Rhaegar would have his time to gloat if she ever left the safety and confines of her room.

_Ding_

Daenerys looked over to the phone that was located aimlessly atop her bed.

She could see that the message was from Missandei, an unlikely friend she had made a few years ago. Both girls met during a social event that her brother hosted, Missandei acting as a personal assistant and translator for one of the event’s guests. A bitter man, by the name of Kraznys, that enjoyed berating the poor girl and abused his power over her. It filled Daenerys with white hot rage that such a girl could be treated in such a way.

So, she begged her brother to do something about the situation and, ever the faithful older brother, Rhaegar had offered Missandei a working position at the palace. Kraznys could do nothing but sputter as the girl jumped at the opportunity.

Daenerys would later learn that the girl was of Egyptian descent and, with great shock, a year younger than she. It only attested to the girl’s intelligence, working as a personal assistant at a young age.

As she grew older, Missandei took on the role of a great friend and, nonofficial, assistant. Missandei was the one to help plan that fateful night. Missandei had reserved the hotel room where she would spend the night with Daario Naharis. Of course, Dany didn’t blame her friend for the happenings of the night whatsoever, oh no. As a matter of fact, Missandei had voiced her opinion strongly against a situation like that. Sweet Missandei believed that Daenerys should come clean with her brother and have the “frolicking” happen in her very room.

Dany remembered at how she rolled her eyes and playfully shoved her friend at such a naïve suggestion. Rhaegar would never allow his sister to be “debased” in his very home. That was why Daenerys always made her moves in silence. Her lovers taken with extra care and caution. Only Missandei knew of her movements, though Daenerys suspected that her mother had a vague idea that she wasn’t “pure” anymore.

Daenerys shook those thoughts away as she looked at the message on the screen of her device.

_‘I’m seriously worried about you Daenerys. Staying cooped inside won’t do much for your health.’_

_‘Don’t try to deny it. I’ve been in contact with your mother and she says that you haven’t left your room in days! Gods, I hope you’ve at least showered or bathed during those days.’_

She gave a small and genuine chuckle as she read that message. She may have been wallowing in depression, but she hadn’t fallen that far. However, she only showered once in the four-day span…but Missandei didn’t need to know that.

_‘Let’s meet up. Usual place?’_

Daenerys stared at the message for an eternity, contemplating it before she received another from her friend.

_‘Please’_

She sighed as she realized the worry that she must have been putting her friend through, not to mention her family.

Daenerys rolled out of her bed as she trudged over to her vanity. God, she really looked like a mess. Disheveled hair, pale skin and puffed eyes from her crying. Why had she been crying? Four days. That’s how long ago the world came crashing down on her. She sighed as she picked up her phone, sending a message to her friend as she did so.

_‘Tomorrow at noon? Usual?’ -D_

Daenerys bit her lip as she stared at the message she had just sent. Was it too plain? Should she have apologized for her lack of communication? No, it was better to do it in person when they met. The tone would be lost over text.

She didn’t have much more time to dwell on her response, as the speech bubble signifying the other person responding, began to appear in the lower left corner.

_‘Oh my god! Yes! Tomorrow. Noon. I’ll be there. You be there too!’ -M_

A smile appeared on Daenerys’ face as she read that message. Sweet Missandei. She could never hold a grudge against Daenerys, even if Daenerys was being insensitive the past few days.

The implications of the meeting also began to dawn on her. She couldn’t leave the palace without protection, not after what had happened. She hadn’t had contact with her family since shutting herself in her room. Her mother had come that very night to comfort her, but Daenerys only responded with sobs. After that, only with silence the sporadic times that Rhaella appeared in her room.

She didn’t know how her ability to leave the palace now stood. Was she able to leave? Or did Rhaegar place her on lockdown indefinitely? Surely not. Surely, she still had her freedom to move as she wished. Though, she supposed “freedom” was a relative term in this sense. If she was able to leave, then no doubt it would only be possible with a guarded escort. Which meant that she would have to travel under the protection of Jon Snow, once again.

Jon Snow.

She could be the first person to admit that perhaps their first meeting wasn’t one of idealism. She had certainly come off as abrasive during their initial contact with one another and had certainly not done herself any favors on the drive towards Oxford Street.

She placed a hand on her face as she cringed at the thought of what she had done. Had she really thrown a tantrum? In his vehicle? Oh God, she didn’t think she’d be able to face him again.

There was also the fact that he’d saved her life. It filled her with guilt. Not at being saved. No, she was rather grateful for that fact. But guilt at the idea…fact…that she’d been nothing short of, well…a bitch to him. She had shamelessly flirted and gotten handsy with Daario in public, just for the chance to scare him off.

She groaned.

Another wave of regret filled her. She wasn’t even wearing a disguise as she went out. What were the odds that someone had a picture of her and Daario getting PDA with one another? Though, it had been days and her mother hadn’t barged in once in rage, so she guessed she was lucky. For now, at least.

Oh well. She may as well put those thoughts behind her and get ready to integrate back into society. Taking a shower would help. Then, she would go and talk with her mother about what had happened. After that? She supposed she would need to face Rhaegar and inform him of her plans. May as well get a hold of Jon Snow’s contact information while she was at it.

-6-

“Mother, I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened?! You almost died! What would I do? What would I do Daenerys if I found out you had been murdered that night?!”

Rhaella was hysterical as she clutched onto her daughter with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Mother, I’m fine” Daenerys said with a shaky voice. “I’m still here. Please don’t cry.”

Tears began to well in the corner of Daenerys’ eyes as Rhaella sobbed harder.

As their cries began to die down, Rhaella pulled away from her embrace to grab onto her daughter’s face. She held her there, looking down with sad violet eyes.

“My baby…” Rhaella whispered.

“Mother” Dany choked out.

Rhaella gave a sad smile as she gazed and took in her daughter’s features. Both women with puffed eyes, red tipped noses and plump lips from their crying. And still both women were stunning.

“I thought your brother was overreacting in his desire to see us all escorted by guards with the highest security. I merely thought to play along with the charade, but now…I’m thankful my son is far more aware than I.”

Daenerys nodded at her mother’s words, understanding and agreeing that they were foolish not to take the threat seriously. The threat had only been made a week ago, but she had come into contact with Daario much sooner than that. How horrifying to think that the threat was planned much sooner than they had made them aware. How horribly things would have turned out if she had made her plans even a day sooner.

She owed her life to her brother. No, she owed her life to Jon Snow.

“Jon saved me” she said offhandedly.

“He did” Rhaella cooed “and I am forever grateful for that. From what you told me, this Jon Snow is able with taking care of himself. Though, perhaps that isn’t so surprising when he is Arthur’s nephew.”

Daenerys whipped her head up to her mother.

“Arthur? As in Arthur Dayne?”

Rhaella nodded.

“Wait. Arthur Dayne is Jon Snow’s uncle?”

Rhaella smiled at her daughter as she nodded once more.

Daenerys only looked down with wide eyes as she took in the newfound information. It made sense. Arthur Dayne was the best guard in the royal security. It only made sense that he would teach his nephew and his nephew would prove competent. Perhaps that is where her brother had found him. Through his loyal guard and friend.

Arthur Dayne’s relation to her bodyguard also proved a great opportunity. She wouldn’t need to face her brother if she went to Arthur for Jon Snow’s information instead. Yes, that would be much easier.

Of course, things never went to plan did they?

“I was wondering when you’d leave your sanctuary.”

Both women turned as the King of the Great Nation walked in, Arthur Dayne in tow.

“I am glad to see you back and in safety, sister” Rhaegar flashed his white teeth.

Rhaella smiled at her son but Daenerys only had eyes for the man behind him. Dark hair and violet eyes that could pass off as a Targaryen, or at least a bastard of one. Arthur Dayne. She could see a slight resemblance in him as she did her bodyguard but it was only slight. The nose and maybe the lips. That was it. Everything else she couldn’t recognize. Perhaps Jon Snow took after his father.

“Though” he continued in a serious tone “I would like to know as to why Ser Jaime is not in sight?”

She saw Arthur roll his eyes.

“Rhaegar” Rhaella said with a sigh.

“No” he interrupted “I will not take the chance. This family has already had a close call with Daenerys. I would not put it past them to attempt once more.”

They could all see that Rhaella wanted to argue but could not find it to form the words. Rhaegar was correct in this matter, after all. However, it was Arthur Dayne that spoke up.

“The palace security has been cleared, Rhaegar. As has the staff and all personnel. They will not be foolish enough to make an attempt while the entire family is guarded in the safety of Buckingham Palace. I made sure to take the matters with the head of security and he agrees. There are no blind spots on the outer grounds or inner halls.”

Both women felt a surge of gratefulness fill them as Rhaegar turned to his friend with a face of betrayal, but Arthur never relented in his gaze.

Rhaegar turned around as he nodded with clear reluctance.

“Very well” he said. “However! You know the rules. Until the threat has been perceived to have passed, then you must be shadowed by your own personal guard at all times when outside the palace. I would prefer more than one guard accompany you, as most people of importance travel with, but I understand that some of you” his eyes flicked to her “would prefer to travel with as little security as possible. Of course, I could force more personnel, but I believe I can be somewhat lenient.”

(“Even though I’ve been lenient enough” he muttered under his breath”.)

Well, she supposed sooner was better than later.

“I agreed to meet up with Missy. Tomorrow at noon.”

She could see the displeasure on her brother’s face as he turned slowly towards her. Not at Missandei, but at the fact that she was making plans to leave outside the palace so soon after coming from her self-imposed exile.

“You know the rules” he started.

“I know” she interrupted. “I don’t go anywhere without Jon.”

She could see Arthur flick his eyes over to her.

Rhaegar looked surprised at her declaration but soon took on a face of quite pleased.

“Exactly right, dear sister. Jon accompanies your _everywhere_.” Rhaegar turned on his heel as he began to leave. “Come along Arthur.”

The royal guard began to follow him until Daenerys made herself known.

“Wait!”

Both men stopped as all parties within the room turned to look at her.

“Yes?” Rhaegar questioned.

She shook her head.

“I want to talk to Arthur” she said.

The man in question raised an eyebrow towards her while her brother waited by the door, clearly expecting her to speak while he was in their presence.

“Alone” she clarified.

Rhaegar looked taken back. He looked towards his guard who also looked back at him.

Arthur shrugged.

“You need me to protect you right now, your grace?”

Rhaegar rolled his eyes as Rhaella stifled a laugh. He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him as he left.

Arthur walked over to her, placing his hand over the other as he stood before her.

“You wanted to speak to me, princess?”

Daenerys nodded as she looked into his violet eyes with her own, Rhaella sipping on some tea as she sat almost forgotten.

“You’re Jon Snow’s uncle?”

He stared at her for a while before answering.

“I am.”

She wanted to ask him for Jon Snow’s contact information in order to proceed with things, but she suspected that it may be rude to do such a thing.

“Is that how Rhaegar found him? Through you?”

“No” he answered honestly.

That took both women in the room by surprise.

“Oh… then-”

“I was not there when Rhaegar became initially aware of my nephew’s existence. It is to my understanding that he met with another individual that is acquainted with my nephew and that is how Rhaegar came to be aware of Jon Snow’s services. I apologize if that was not the answer you were hoping for, princess.”

Daenerys shook her head in confusion.

“Then…what is that Jon Snow does? Is he a private bodyguard that is hired for his services? Surely you know about your nephew’s profession” she asked.

They did not miss the way Arthur’s eyes looked sideways in clear anxiety.

“What is it Ser Arthur” Rhaella asked him. “Do not keep this information to yourself if it is of utmost importance.”

“I…I believe that is a question that is best answered by Jon himself. I do not believe I am the right person to answer that.” He bowed apologetically. “If that is all…”

“It is not” Daenerys said.

The man looked at her as he righted himself once again.

“In my…brashness of my first meeting with Jon Snow, it is not apparent to me that I never once asked how to contact him as I had no plans of keeping a bodyguard indefinitely. Therefore, I ask of you to please divulge such information for me.”

He looked at her in mild shock before nodding.

“Of course, princess.”

She bid him a grateful “thank you” when she received what she needed and sent him on his way back to her brother.

She stared at the number inputted in her phone, the contact name ‘Jon’ floating above said number.

“Well” Rhaella said.

Daenerys turned to her mother.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to call him?”

“Yes…eventually.”

“Why not call him now? You’ll need to let him know eventually. Didn’t you say you plan on meeting with Missandei tomorrow at noon?”

“Yes” she answered with frustration “it’s just…”

“Just what” Rhaella asked impatiently. “What’s keeping you. Could it-”

Rhaella stopped herself as she looked over at her daughter slyly.

“Could it be that you’re…nervous, perhaps?”

Daenerys turned towards Rhaella abruptly.

“What? No! I’m not nervous!”

“Is it…because you find him handsome?”

Rhaella had a devious smirk upon her face as her daughter’s face flushed red.

“He is handsome” Rhaella continued. “Those piercing grey eyes. True, he’s stoic most of the times, but you can get lost under that hard stare. If you have no conflicting feelings about him, then I wouldn’t mind if he visited me-”

Daenerys growled as she stood abruptly to leave the room. She could hear her mother’s laughs as she stormed away.

-6-

Daenerys huffed as she closed the door to her room. Making her way towards her bed, she could only pull out her phone in frustration.

What did her mother know about her situation, anyways? She wasn’t nervous about contacting Jon Snow because he was handsome. Only because she didn’t know how he’d react to her after all the hell she put him through on their first day of knowing each other. She wasn’t distracted by the way his hair bounced behind his ears as he walked. She didn’t care about how nicely his pants hugged his rear. Or how full and plump and soft his lips looked. She hated the way his eyes bore into her when they spoke with one another. She didn’t like how he walked around with sunglasses all the time as if they made him cool and she certainly didn’t like how he smelled or how his car smelled like him! He was just another man. A man hired by her brother to protect her from harm.

She looked down at her phone as she saw his name over his phone number. No, she didn’t care whatsoever at all. Might as well get things over with.

She pressed the call button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS for John Wick 3  
> Just finished the movie and WOW.  
> THAT is how you make a likable person the villain. Take note D&D.  
> Winston. Oh Winston. Smart. But not very smart to betray John.  
> John Wick has more honor and a better brain that Jon Snow. John Wick is excommunicated by the High Table and the Continental, rendering all services useless to him. John travels to the one man that the High Table listens to. His task to go back in good graces? Murder Winston. The father figure to John and the man that has made his survival possible via pushing his death back one hour.  
> Tasked with great mental fortitude but distraught and doubt in his heart, John travels to the continental and meets Winston face to face. Winston, the clever man that he is, correctly deduces that The Elder, the man that is above the High Table, has ordered his assassination for his defiance against the High Table. Winston offers John a choice. Kill him(Winston) and live but remain in servitude to the High Table forever. Or help him win his rebellion to live once again as a free man. John chooses Winston, of course, because John has experienced love ever since he met his wife. And he holds love for Winston for all that Winston has done for him. This proves to be the wrong choice as Winston was playing him and was merely using John as an example that Winston still held strength and would later have John as his fall man.  
> .  
> Now, in a week where I have seen two betrayals/villain turns. I should have been angry. Daenerys’ butcher ran through my mind and I felt as if I should have expressed nothing but anger.  
> Except…I didn’t. The betrayal from Winston was never out of place. Winston turning on Jon was something that actually made sense. Since John Wick 2, it’s been heavily foreshadowed that the High Table rules all. But as I’ve said before and as I’ll say again. “Foreshadowing is not character development”. And that holds true here as well. We actually see it. We see the power the High Table holds and its influence. How many elite men they could spare on their FIRST assault against Winston. Meanwhile, Winston’s forces have been reduced with only John and Charon remaining. Winston’s whole plan made sense. Everything was calculated to perfection. Disguise his weakness with John’s strength and later turn on John to show his fealty.  
> And John Wick? He chose the love he had for Winston and ended up the loser. Winston realized there could only be one left alive after the entire ordeal and he chose himself (as expected of any assassin). But John’s choice cannot be faulted. He’s been out of the loop for 5 years. The bloodshed and havoc he’s wreaked has been in a span of 2 weeks. He doesn’t know the Continental. And he was blinded for the favoritism that Winston showed him. In the end, John’s eyes were opened wide to what Winston truly was. And in John Wick 4, we will see the true effect of John’s rage.  
> Now after all that. Surely I can stomach Jon’s decision to kill Daenerys much more, right?  
> Wrong  
> Winston was always a ruthless man but his partiality to John blinded John to who Winston really was. Daenerys did nothing but good for her people and one act of rage somehow convinced Jon Snow she needed to be put down?  
> John Wick 3 was BEAUTIFUL. Another parallel/foreshadowing? Something John Wick did better than Game of Thrones/D&D? Telling us that John would kill Winston. No, I’m not talking about when he’s tasked by The Elder with killing Winston. I’m talking earlier in the film, when he meets with Sofia(Halle Barry) and she tells him “Sometimes you have to kill the thing you love”. And that’s it! No dramatic pan on his face. John doesn’t suddenly go to Winston and put a bullet in his heart. No! You forget about the line. You think it’s just some tragedy of Sofia’s character and move on. John struggles with himself internally and it isn’t until Winston’s betrayal and the roll credits of the movie that you remember! That you say to yourself “John has to kill Winston for what Winston did. No matter all the good that Winston’s done for him, this is something that John can’t forgive.” Versus Game of Thrones with Tyrion, “Yeah bro, love is the death of duty buuuut sometimes DutY iS ThE DeaTh oF LovE” right before Jon kills Daenerys. Like, lol, did you think we’d be surprised? That people wouldn’t expect that shit when you put that literally the scene before? LMAO  
> THAT is how Jon should’ve killed Daenerys. The emotional turmoil John Wick went through is what Jon should have gone through. The decision to choose Winston(Daenerys) and only when Winston fucked over John(Jon) is it when John(Jon) decides to kill Winston(Daenerys) because he has to pay. Daenerys(Winston) even said “rule with me”. She could have been saved. She NEEDED to be saved. But Jon chose to butcher her while John chose to believe.  
> 


End file.
